


Violets In The Stone

by JordanthePlatypus



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Affairs, Alliances, Altean Lance (Voltron), Angst, Angst and Drama, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, Character Death, Established Relationship, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Friendship, Galra Keith (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prince Keith (Voltron), Prince Lance (Voltron), Romance, Royalty, Sexual Content, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:33:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26935915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JordanthePlatypus/pseuds/JordanthePlatypus
Summary: In the face of a decade long war, Lance has been dealt the worst card. Having little-to-no-choice in the matter, he accepts a marriage proposal to wed Prince Keith of the Galran Empire. Convinced that this was a fate worse than death, Lance is determined to hate his betrothed, whom he knows very little about.Tossed to the 'savage' kingdom across the seas, he begins his new life in the midst of corrupt politics, extramarital affairs, and a power struggle that proves to be consequential.
Relationships: Hunk/Shay (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 68





	1. Nectar In A Sieve

**Author's Note:**

> aka the story in which Lance is a whiny, manipulative little shit and Keith just hates it here.
> 
> This is the first story I have ever written, as you can probably tell by the overuse of commas and semi-colons and em-dashes. I would like to point out that English is not my first or second language, and that I try my best to phrase things in the right way. 
> 
> Please let me know if you enjoyed it, and hopefully, there'd be some audience to keep me motivated enough to continue writing this story.

Lance knew the moment he saw Galra battleships dock in Altean ports that something was wrong. He did not enquire about it though, as it would stir up a lot of unnecessary trouble as he was not supposed to be outside castle walls. So, he never questioned anything and went about his day quietly. But the more he left the situation undisturbed, the more his curiosity intensified. 

Allura seemed to know. She wore a face of great despondency and was more hostile to approach than the King and Coran, the Royal Advisor. Lance never bothered her as he believed that if his sister truly wanted to talk to him, she would, and he would never force her to tell him anything she did not want to.

A couple of days passed since he last saw the Galra battleships, and the castle was eerily quiet. It was as if everyone could sense the tension between Allura and her father and became more reserved. Lance had not seen any Galra roam the castle, so he figured they left as soon as they came, and he deduced that they were the cause of Allura’s sour mood. 

He decided he did not want to be kept in the dark anymore. He was the Prince of Altea, and he was supposed to be briefed in all diplomatic issues, and the thought of him not being involved troubled him to no end. His father was usually so free in matters of the state; always making sure that Lance was in the know, that he was always involved no matter how small or how big the affair was. 

But, Galra ships in Altean ports was a big matter; ever since the decades-long war between the two empires, any semblance of a treaty has been long since abandoned. Many late Altean rulers had given up on that very dream for the war had been going on for far too long. The possibility of peace was too dead to be brought back to life. One after the other, the monarchs fell to their deaths, succumbing to the fate of war that had crippled them.

Allura was anointed the Crown Princess, and preparations for her ascension had already begun, even though King Alfor was still in his peak years of ruling. It was to be expected; Allura was a destined leader. Many oracles have prophesied of her greatness and of her exploits as an empress, her name on the tongue of every lame man. There was never any competition for the throne between her and Lance for this very reason. He was content with just being a diplomat, solving crises along with senior Altean diplomats. It was what he was good at. It was familiar. And so, when Lance was being with-held from his right to know what was going on, he short-circuited. He marched to the throne room, swung the heavy doors open and approached his father. 

He knelt on one knee with his head respectfully bowed. “Father, I request an audience with you.”

His father frowned. “Lance, why are you so aloof?” He beckoned for Lance to get closer, but Lance stood his ground, gazing at the King intensely. 

“Father, am I not the Prince of Altea?”

“Of course, you are, my son. Who else would you be?”

“Then, aren’t I important enough to be briefed on diplomatic issues such as peace treaties?”

Alfor pressed his lips in a straight line. By then, he knew what his son was meaning to say. He knew that Lance had noticed. How could he have not?

“My son, I did not mean to keep anything from you. Everything that I do is in your and Altea’s best interest.”

“Not Allura’s,” Lance reminded. “Why is it that Allura seems to resent you? What have you done to accomplish that? I noticed the Galra warships, Father. What is the meaning of this?”

King Alfor sighed, long and heavy. Lance approached him and knelt by his side. He clasped his father’s hand in his, kissing the tips of his knuckles. “I merely mean to be included. I do not like being pushed aside like this. I only want to know for the pride of a prince and the sake of Altea.”

“Please Lance; do not be so formal with me. I am your father as much as I am your king. And my duty as a father comes before my duty as your king.

The Galra are here to finalize the terms for a new peace treaty. A better one compared to the last. However, Altea benefits from this truce the most, as the Galra have been given strict rules and us lesser so.”

Lance frowned, leaning against his father’s throne. They shifted so that they could face each other. “I don’t understand. When was this done? And why is Allura upset about it if she knows?”

King Alfor dawned on a grim expression. His hand began shaking in Lance’s and vague pools began forming in the bases of his eyes. Lance grew more concerned for his father rather than Allura and himself.

“My son, forgive this wretched father of yours.” Lance retracted in shock and confusion. 

“Father please, I don’t—” He was cut-off by the doors swinging open and guards walking in. Behind them were three hooded figures.

King Alfor perked up. Taking back his hand, he settled against his throne in a more dignified manner and Lance stood beside him, poised and powerful. With a wave of the King’s hand, the guards let the three men past them. They knelt before the King in an Altean manner which Lance knew they were awkward in.

“King Alfor,” One spoke. “I humbly greet you.” 

Lance examined the Galra, looking for any possible signs of scorn or resentment but found nothing. He continued to cross-examine them until the Galra who greeted his father turned to lock gazes with him. He directed his stare to the floor as if burnt by the contact.

“Prince Lance.” The Galra acknowledged and Lance vaguely recalled Coran introducing him as the Galran ambassador in the past. Lance did nothing but nod in return.

“I did not expect your arrival to be this early. If I remember, we agreed to meet a week after yesterday,” Alfor said, creasing his forehead by narrowing his eyebrows. Lance felt put-off by the new information. Of course, the King arranged future meetings with the Galra without informing Lance, and he would continue to do so if Lance had not approached him. The thought of it left a sour taste in the Prince’s mouth. 

“Forgive me, Your Majesty but it was urgent. The proposal that you have wished-for at the prior negotiations has been discussed by the Galra council. We were sent here immediately with the response.” Lance felt the King stiffen beside him although it was slight. “The Galra have unpretentiously accepted your request.” 

King Alfor lost his breath for a moment. Lance stared at his father in meek curiosity while the ambassador awaited instructions. 

“We shall discuss this further on a later date. Perhaps, ten moons from now on Daibazaal?”

The ambassador nodded. “Whenever your majesty sees fit.” 

“Go now,” The King spoke. “I must speak to my son.” The Galra bowed and filed out of the throne room and the guards followed right after.

“Father,” Lance spoke, and it almost went unheard as it was so quiet. “What was the proposal you suggested?” 

His father did not look at him, could not look at him for if he did Lance would be staring into the eyes of a person wracked with guilt. Instead, the King merely took Lance’s hand and brought it to his lips. The action was so gentle that it shocked the young Prince, doubling his worry for his father. 

“I am truly sorry my son, but the need for peace was greater than all I could do for you.” Neither of them moved. “The Galra offered an alliance; A joining of families—“

A marriage alliance, Lance realised with horror. But that was too dangerous, his father knew it. The Galra do not ever offer something without an ulterior motive, more sinister than normal and a marriage alliance was the perfect situation. 

“—Allura was to wed the youngest Galra prince.” 

Lance felt sick. “Father no—you can’t possibly—Allura isn’t some sort of prize to give away for peace.” 

“Be calm, my son. I did not condone that proposition. I rejected it almost immediately.” Lance frowned, knowing that was more to it. 

“But the Galra want a marriage alliance and they were adamant in their demand. Coran and I did everything we could, Lance…everything.”

“Allura,” Lance whispered and clutched his stomach for he was overwhelmed by the urge to puke. His sister, his dear beloved sister being married to some Galra who only wanted her so that he could weasel his filthy blood lineage into their pure Altean one; the Galra wanted to have a Galran among Altean royalty for a firmer foothold. The manipulation would not happen right away, testing of the waters would still come first but Lance knew—he knew!—it was only a matter of time before the Galran monopoly would begin.

“Coran and I discussed the issue for days and no matter how many times we would reanalyse it, or look at it from a different angle, we would end up with the same solution.

“Allura cannot be betrothed to a Galra because she is the heir to the throne and purity in her lineage is as important to us as this peace treaty. Emperor Lotor is also exempted from the marriage alliance for the same reason. So, the only remaining option is—”

“Me.” Lance realised. “I am your next best alternative.” 

The King did nothing, but nod and Lance felt his entire world collapse. 

“When were you planning on telling me?”

“It was just a shot in the dark with the proposal for your hand instead of Allura’s. We imagined they would never accept as the Galran consorts served only for continuing bloodlines.” Alfor winced a little but continued onwards. “I was never going to tell you, my son, for I was sure we wouldn’t have to give you away, that the Galra would decline and we would go back to war and disharmony. We never would have imagined they would accept.”

But they did accept. Not as convivial to the new proposition against the old, but they still accepted as any marriage alliance at all was better than war.

Lance spent the rest of the week locked up in his royal chambers refusing to eat and sleep. Many of the servants tried to coax the stubborn prince out of his retaliation but failed to no avail. Usually, Allura would intervene by then, ramming the door down and shaking the Prince until he succumbs, but that was not the case. She was strongly against the decision as much as her brother was. She pleaded her case in front of the Royal Council, with her father present, but was always rejected in the end for the Council recognised the decision made by the King as a struggle to attain peace. 

“Isn’t that always the Altean way; to attain peace?” That was what they said to her after assessing her case. And for the first time, Allura felt nothing but spite for the Altean judicial system. 

Before either of them knew it, ten moons had passed, and the castle was preparing to send off their Prince; that involved a feast in the name of the possible marriage. The entire castle was chaotic. Servants bustled through the halls, carrying silverware and decorations, the kitchen staff preparing the feast from the crack of dawn to midnight. The chef was adamant to make all of Lance’s favourite dishes with the thought of him never being able to eat them again in mind. 

The feast was the talk of the town. Rumours of the Prince being wed began floating amongst the common folk, arising excitement. The people of Altea started to prepare their own send-off toast for the prince, decorating the streets with blue and adorning themselves with expensive jewellery in honour of the Prince. At the night of the feast, there were celebrations both inside and outside of the castle. Everyone felt the need to celebrate the forthcoming of peace, everyone but the royal family. 

Lance spent the entirety of the feast moping about, wondering about his would-be betrothed and spent the entirety of the night wishing upon countless of stars. Wishing for a miracle, wishing for hope. 

At the brink of dawn on the very next day, Lance was being fitted. It was a long, gruelling process that he had to deal with ever since coming-of-age. Lance stood still for what seemed like hours, but he knew it had only been mere minutes. He ached and groaned when he could not keep still, earning tongue-lashes from his couturiers. 

After taking his measurements, they immediately went to work on dressing him. The selected clothing for the joyous occasion was the most beautiful piece of fabric Lance had the pleasure of wearing. It was light blue and flowing—till his ankles—with magnificent lacework and gold embroidery. He was sure the excellence of the sleeved tunic was to make aware of his status as the Prince of Altea, that he was powerful, worthy. He felt the fabric; how translucent and thin it was. 

“Your Highness, would you like to have on the circlet?” A servant asked him once the fitting was done. Lance stood before a body length mirror, raking his eyes over his figure again and again. He nodded, and the circlet was placed delicately in his hands. He swiped a thumb over its stunning gold scrolls, a sculpted Ivy leaf is at the centre of the forehead, adorned by a marquis-cut cubic diamond and gentle scrolls surround the leaf and intertwine toward the sides of the circlet. 

It was a gift given to him by his mother for his coming-of-age ceremony. It was the most precious thing Lance owned and so he contemplated taking it with him to Daibazaal for if the marriage were to happen, he did not want the circlet anywhere on Galran land. 

The door to the fitting room opened for his mother, the Queen. The servants hastened to get down on a knee and bow even though his mother had told them countless times that it was unnecessary; a mere head bow would do.

“Mother, how lovely it is to see you,” Lance said and smiled. He extended his hand which his mother took. His mother stood close by his side, inspecting his dress. It was always her say whether the attire Lance sprouted would go or not. No one else had the final word in the matter. It did not matter if her opinion was unpopular or if a thousand seamstresses opposed her—her decision was the only decision that mattered. 

“You look handsome, my darling,” His mother said to him. “Whoever it is that marries you must be the luckiest being in the universe.” 

“Mother please, you are too kind.” He smiled but it was not up to his eyes. His mother noticed and quickly frowned. She was the only royal, other than the King, who was backing up the idea of the marriage alliance to the Galra. The Queen was born during the golden age of the war. After countless years of losing everyone and everything she loved, she leapt for the mere idea of a possible alliance, something that could put an end to the war, to death, to the suffering of her ancestors and her people. 

“Lance,” She spoke. “You mustn’t be this way. I know it is hard, I know it is asking too much of you, but for our people, for our Altea, you must handle this with the dignity and the indifference of the Prince your father and I raised you to be.” She placed the palm of her hand against his cheek and he leaned into it.

“Yes, mother.” 

She gave him a watery smile, one that was all too familiar. “May we meet again.” She pressed their foreheads together and closed her eyes in a silent prayer. 

“May we meet again,” Lance hollowly whispered back, tears dripping down his cheeks.

He remembered his mother’s words as he boarded the royal cruiser with his father and Coran by his side. Allura had to stay back as a replacement for the king, his mother feeling too miserable to rule while the King was away. Lance did not cry as he waved goodbye to them. 

It was a seven-hour trip to Daibazaal, and Lance spent most of it asleep. He had been neglecting sleep for a week, paranoid about the fact that the upcoming expedition to Daibazaal would seal his fate forever. He brought minimum luggage with him, just as his sister advised him to. He brought with him several cloaks, all of them dyed in darker shades for the special occasion. He did not bring any jewellery with him for the ones he wore now would suffice. 

Coran fetched him right before they docked. Lance was already awake and stood before the vanity, eyes searching, hands shaking, and face pale. 

“Your Highness, is everything alright?” Coran asked him, and Lance was almost tempted to tell him that it was not, but he did not. Instead, he forced the bile back down his throat and gave the older Altean a timid smile. 

“Yes of course! Why wouldn’t it be? Yes, I am nervous and frightened, and a tad bit overwhelmed but I can get through it for it is I; Lance, Prince of Altea and I can handle any situation.”

“My Prince,” Coran said, placing a hand on the Prince’s shoulder. “I would know if you are not faring well, so please do not bother with needless rambling.”

“Sorry,” He cracked a smile. “Sometimes I forget that you can read me like a book.”

Coran let out a sound of agreement. “You are far too decipherable, Prince Lance. You wear your heart on your sleeve much like your father does. You and the King resemble each other perfectly.”

Lance laughed at that. Many others have told him the same, that he shared many attributes with the King, but never saw it. To him, his father was an untouchable man surrounded by years of wisdom and experience. The King was accomplished, practical and smart. Lance did have some loud qualities, but none of them held a candle to King Alfor—so Lance did not see the similarity. 

“I appreciate the compliment, Coran, but it would do me better if you did not overdo yourself.”

“I have never outdone myself, young Prince. You are truly like your father, whether you want to believe it or not.”

“Yes, well, I cannot be indulging in beliefs right now. Not when I’m tossed away to some pathetic Galra.” 

“I know my Prince, I know, but what is it we can do? I am helpless, your family is helpless, and Altea is helpless. All we can say in condolence is how selfless and kind you are, Prince Lance. How you put the entire kingdom before your personal needs and made this tremendous sacrifice. You will be exalted in Altea as the one who paved the road to peace.”

“But Coran, I’m going to marry a Galran— vermin and absolute filth. Is this my destiny? Is that the respect I’m given as Prince?” 

Coran tried to hide his displeasure at what was being said. He did not entirely agree with Lance’s sentiments, but he did not entirely disagree with them either. He was as torn about it as anybody else, and his heart broke upon hearing such words which were dripping with vulnerability. Lance caught Coran’s arm, digging his nails into the thick fabric of the tunic the man was wearing, with a face so blanched. 

There were no words left to say.

They descended from the cruiser and made pleasantries with the Galran ambassador before escorted to the suite. There was a welcoming dinner thrown in honour of Lance's arrival where he greeted the Galran ambassador and the Emperor. 

Lance spotted his to-be-betrothed across the hall. The Galran did not seem to notice him, and he was very much happy with watching him from afar. He was not what he had expected. He was pretty in a strange sense. He was on the shorter side too, although he still was an inch or two taller than Lance himself. 

“Lance, I see the Prince across the hallway. It would be good if you struck up a conversation with him,” said his father as he nudged him. “Get well acquainted before it is too late to.”

But Lance refused. “No, no, no. I would much rather drown in the comfort that this lovely corner provides me than go up and talk to a Galra. I want to stay here for the rest of the night, with a good book, and a menacing aura so that no one will approach me.”

“My son, you cannot be serious,” Alfor chided but Lance shot him a look that the King had been accustomed to seeing for the past decade or so. 

“Oh, I am deadly serious, father.”

“Well, it is such a shame that he’s coming over then.”

Lance whipped his head around so fast that he gave himself a case of vertigo. With sunspots dancing beneath hooded eyelids, he tried to make out the blurred figures for the Galran Prince. He closed his eyes momentarily and when he opened them, he found two black orbs staring down at him.

“Your Majesty.” The Galran bowed out of respect to the Altean king, “Prince Lance,” The Galran Prince voiced upon making eye contact with him. “It is a pleasure to meet you.” 

“Likewise, Prince Keithyr,” Lance said, shooting a false smile his way. Prince Keithyr was intimidating up close with his stature that only slightly towered over Lance and his tightly pursed lips that sort of resembled a grimace. 

Alfor made a bad attempt at clearing his throat. “Well, I shall leave you two alone for now. I would not want to impose.”

Prince Keithyr shook his head and probably said that Alfor was posing no such inconvenience to him while Lance meekly tugged at his father’s long sleeve but Alfor ignored him and walked away, leaving the two in awkward silence.

Lance glanced at the Galran who was, conveniently, already looking at him. This led to a painful five seconds of eye contact which was broken because of the sheer awkwardness of it. Lance recalled how Coran encouraged him to be diplomatic to the Galra, to engage in conversations about the weather or politics and Lance could have given half a mind to it if it were not for the issue of race. No matter how much he tried to be open-minded about it- he just could not. They were Galra. They were not civil or decent or loveable or someone Lance could hold a conversation with. They were Galra and he hated it.

He did not know if Prince Keithyr felt the same towards Alteans, but some weird part of him wished it so. He did not know why, nor did he dwell on it.

“You do not look very glad,” Keithyr spoke, “being left alone with me.”

Lance bit the inside of his cheek, pondering on how to reply. Maybe he should be concise, give the Prince a heads-up of the reality of his affections towards him.

“In my defence, I don’t think anyone would be, Prince Keithyr.” Was that too harsh? Lance felt that that was too harsh.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Did I offend you? My apologies, I’m not used to speaking with a Galran.”

Prince Keithyr scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes hardened as they glazed over at Lance. There was a spark of realization before it, which beckoned Lance to assume that Keithyr was not in the dark about Lance’s true feelings and maybe even reciprocated them.

“Ah,” he let out a sound of recognition, “hate isn’t a good way to get to know your future spouse. And call me Keith; Keithyr is for official, formal purposes. My family calls me Keith and I suppose you may as well since you are to be my spouse.” 

Lance let out a sound of protest, something that sounded like a pig being squeezed. The air around Keithyr--Keith--was intense and it made the Altean feel a little uneasy. They had only spoken for about a minute but Lance already felt dreadful. 

“Well, in that notion, you can call me Lance.” 

Keithyr--Keith--snorted. “You are quite expressive when you decide you don’t like someone.”

“Well, so are you but I’m not very delicate about it, am I?” They stared at each other for a good minute. Keithyr, Keith was frowning at him and Lance was doing the same. “Just to be clear, I do not want this alliance. I never wanted it, but my status and unfortunate circumstances put me into this situation.”

“I feel the same, Lance” Keith grunted. There was something about the way the Galran said his name that made Lance feel odd. “Let me be frank; I had and have no intention of marrying you. It is not that you are not good looking—you are—but this marriage wasn't what I truly wanted."

Lance realised that he was going to marry someone who was not even remotely interested in him. It made everything seem more pathetic.

“I'm sure. Then, we understand each other,” Lance said. 

“Perfectly." 

“I am glad. It clears up a lot of things nicely. Now I do not have to pretend that you are interested. That would have been painful for both you and me.” Lance reasoned.

If Keith agreed with him, he did not voice it out. Instead, they were left with a blanket of silence on them. Lance found it difficult to speak and Keith did not want to speak. So, they stood beside each other in complete silence, while watching the other guests interact with each other. Once the drinks were served, Lance busied himself in examining his wine. After all, Daibazaal had different drinks than Altea. 

“It’s a Daiquiri.” Lance bobbed his head up to stare at Keith, whose voice startled him after the prolonged silence. “The drink is Daiquiri; Daibazaal’s best drink.”

“Oh. I have never tried this drink before.” He revealed, twirling the glass of wine. “In Altea, we do not indulge in alcohol much, although we do frequently merry-make.”

“Yes, I know. There are rumours of Altea’s extravagant parties here.” 

“Don’t you have parties here on Daibazaal?” 

“We do but they are mainly for official purposes and not to flaunt someone’s wealth or status,” Keith explained. If Lance had heard this from any other person, he would know they were being rude, but since it was Keith who said it, and with a poker face no less, he was not quite sure. 

“Well, at least we know how to have fun,” Lance smirked, leaning a bit closer to Keith than he previously was.

The Galran said nothing for a second; seeming to almost break out into a grimace and Lance was smug. He leaned away, his eyes cast to the ground. Being with Keith posed too many barriers and lines which he was excited to cross.

“I suppose so,” Keith said, pressing the glass to his lips but not tilting it up to have a drink, deeming the conversation to a stop.

The rest of the evening passed by in a haze; Lance was ushered to retire to his chambers by his handmaiden. He bid farewell to Keith before walking back to his room. It was a big day tomorrow after all and he needed all the sleep he could get. His union with Keith would be decided tomorrow and he did not know what he wanted the decision to be.


	2. Behold, Here's Poison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith slammed his fist down on the table, silencing any sort of word vomit Lance was about to spill. He stood, his chair sliding back with a screech. He glared at the Altean, glared at him with all the hate he could offer. Lance had to look away because he could not stand to see the murder in Keith’s eyes, could not bear to see it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is the second chapter that I pumped out! And with the introduction of a bunch of characters like Lotor and Pidge, I am excited to see where I can take this. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please let me know what you think about it!

He did not get a wink of sleep that night. He awoke with a thunderous migraine and horrible bed-hair. His stylists spent, probably, an hour trying to fix his bed head. It was the worst case of bed hair he had in years. Not the perfect timing for it.

Once they were finished with his hair, they dressed him. Unlike the blue he wore the day he met Keith, he now wore a light purple robe which was adorned with pastel lavender embroidery, over which, they dawned on him a purple cloak.

He left his chambers, turned right on the long corridors, went down the flight of stairs and stopped before a big wooden red door. The guards posted in front opened the doors for him without hesitation. All eyes were on him now and amongst them, he found relief in his father’s and Coran’s. He sauntered towards the elevated platform and took his seat beside his father with Coran standing behind them. He scanned the table. Many Galra were present, seated according to status. The ones on the opposite end of the table were Emperor Lotor and Keith.

“Apologies for being late, Emperor Lotor,” He said, bowing his head and casting his eyes down. “I lost track of time.” 

Lotor smiled back at him, diplomatically. Lance could never imagine otherwise. “Please, I pay no heed to it.” 

“Thank you, Emperor Lotor.”

“Lotor,” He said, enouncing each syllable slowly. “Please, just call me Lotor. We are to be family soon, yes?”

Lance’s eyes widened a fraction. Surely, Lotor’s kindness was welcomed by Lance with open arms but letting Lance address the Galra Emperor without a title was a little unconventional. 

“Of course, Emperor—uh, Lotor.” 

“And would this mean I could get to call you Lance?” The Emperor chuckled and as he did, the other Galra presented laughed along as well. Lance glanced around the room. The only ones who did not laugh were himself, Coran, the King and Keith.

Lance looked toward the said Galra, probably to make eye contact but the other was busy casting his eyes downward like he did not want to see Lance, or his brother, or anybody. 

“Of course. I would be honoured, Lotor.” Lance smiled, and he swallowed the bile in his throat.

Lotor smiled at his words. “Now that Lance is here, we shall officially commence the meeting.”

“That would be wonderful. I would like to start by propositioning my terms and conditions,” said King Alfor.

Lotor nodded. “Yes, of course. We will gladly hear you out.”

“Thank you. If the marriage between my son and Prince Keithyr does happen, my terms are for my Queen and Princess Allura to be able to visit him whenever convenient for them.”

“But, of course! They will be accommodated with only the best hospitality us Galra can offer. I will not condone anything less for the Queen and the Princess.”

“That is wonderful. But what is to be done about the issue of ranks? What title is my son to receive?”

“Well, that depends, King Alfor…” 

And this went on for approximately an hour. Both sides throwing in issues and crises’ that would clash with the others. Sometimes, they would come out with firm solutions and other times there would be unstable answers.

“That is absurd. We cannot lend information on our artilleries to you. You must understand that we are still in doubt from the last time we aided you.” King Alfor argued.

“It is only a matter of trade. We will also make a fair exchange; the liberation of many Alteans who are captives here.”

“But that does not make any sort of sense! Their freedom should have been mandatory when you suggested a truce. Not freeing my people is going against everything you aim for.” 

“You must understand; the Galra does not give easily.”

“And Altea does not like to be exploited with suave words."

Lance wanted to intervene, to say something, anything. 

“May I make a suggestion?” he voiced although uncertain. All eyes were instantly on him. Even Keith's. Now, Lance definitely could not back down. 

“First of all, Emperor Lotor; releasing the Alteans you have here should have been done first thing after proposing the truce. Not doing so just makes affairs harder to handle. I suggest you release them otherwise Altea will have to back off from the treaty. After all, even if one Altean is not liberated from the oppression of war, then the entirety of Altea is not liberated.

And father, Emperor Lotor has a point in demanding information on our weapons. Not knowing what kind of weaponry your enemy has will lead to fear and distrust.

I suggest that we rethink our proposals and come out with resolutions that do not put the other party at a disadvantage. Suppose we built our relationship on a solid base before we release prisoners of war and information on artilleries—like exports of spices, minerals, fabric, foods. Once we establish a solid ground, a barter relationship for a while, trust would follow, I would think."

Lance glanced at Lotor to see what his reaction might be. The said Galran Emperor was tight-lipped with his elbows propositioned on the table. He was leaning in with keen interest. Perhaps Lance should have digressed more if he knew that Lotor was inviting. Maybe even try suggesting that there need not be a marriage alliance for a truce. But that would have been degrading.

Lotor spoke after a long time, “I think that this marriage is a wonderful idea. Lance is remarkable and could do wonders bringing some Altean wisdom into the Galran court.”

King Alfor perked up. “Yes, indeed. He assisted our council back on Altea. He was the board member as well. Lance proved time and time again how valuable of an asset he could be. I suppose, he could also assist the Galran council as well.”

“Absolutely,” Lotor agreed. “I assure you that Lance would be given the same respect as any high ranking Galran noble. He would also prove great use to the empire by taking part in the council since I have heard how great a diplomat he is. It is my wish that he be crowned the Altean ambassador.”

Alfor nodded. “Of course. It is an honour to have that bestowed upon my son.” 

Lotor smiled in response, “Then it is done.” He looked towards Lance and his smiled grew tenfold. “I agree to the union between my brother, Prince Keithyr, and Prince Lance of Altea.” 

Lance felt sick. He looked towards his father, hoping, praying and oh god. 

“I also agree to this union,” King Alfor announced. “May the two of you”— he looked towards Keith and then Lance—“bring peace and pride to your respective nations.”

To say that Lance was not happy about the situation was an understatement. He was livid, outraged, hopeless and completely, utterly distraught. He knew that eventually, the marriage was going to happen, that eventually, he would have a Galran fiancée, but he did not want to acknowledge it. His shoulders dipped with heavy tension; he was the first one to leave when the union was dispersed. He went straight to his room, no side stops. He went straight to his quarters and was not seen until the next day.

His father and Coran went back to Altea until the wedding was fixed, leaving Lance all alone on a strange, hostile land. They did leave him with an officer, a woman by the name of Pidge. He was present for the send-off for his father and Coran with Pidge by his side. They did not speak whatsoever. They did not need to, and it was not required. Pidge was here for the sole purpose of asserting Altean alpha genes, and then to protect the Prince. 

He spent an entire afternoon in the lounge area of the palace, walking up and down with nothing worthwhile to do. Keith was not anywhere to be found. He brought with him a sense of protection as Lance knew it was a matter of Galra pride to protect their betrothed. At least with him around, Lance did not have to worry about being stabbed in the back, but he had Pidge for small comfort.

It was only after an hour of endless boredom that Keith appeared. Lance was still at the lounge room, draping himself over the sofa in a fit of laziness because he thought no one was looking, but Keith was. Once Lance caught Keith’s stare, he hastily removed himself from it. He was standing at the doorway arch wearing a black suit of armour and not his usual robe. 

Lance pranced towards him with Pidge trailing behind. He had a lot of things he wanted to say to the Galran man, but many were trivial and could wait for another time. 

“Keith.” Lance nodded in acknowledgement, “I have been looking for you for a very long time this morning after the summit.”

“Were you now?” Keith tilted his head in mock confusion; his slightly twisted lips gave it away. “That’s a bit disbelieving coming from you.”

“As much as it is unbelievable, it is the truth. I was searching all morning, but you were nowhere to be found. Pray tell me where you were." 

Both the men took strides glaring at each other. To an outsider, they seemed the furthest thing from being betrothed. 

“I was with my team. What I do and where I go are none of your business.” 

“To the contrary, it is very well my business what you do and where you go.”

“It is funny that you of all people acknowledge our engagement.” 

“And it is funny that you of all people do not.”

Keith growled, and Lance smirked—Pidge was watching from the side. 

“Trouble in paradise?” she asked, her eyebrows raised, and her lips curved upwards. The glares the Princes gave her in return could kill; not like she cared either way. Lance learned the hard way that Pidge had no filter to her, though it is not like he was one to talk. But, if he were just a mere bodyguard like Pidge was, he would learn where his boundaries lay—she had not.

“No need to be so touchy, Your Highnesses. If you're going to have this lover’s spat, I’ll be taking my leave. Your Highness," she turned to Lance specifically, "you know where to find me.” 

“What? I do not!” Lance exasperated. He had no idea where Pidge hinted to. To be fair, he was new to the palace and barely did any sightseeing; too busy cooped up in his bedroom, mourning his fate. 

Pidge turned around to face him, her face completely blank. “To the library, I thought you knew that. You are not very observant for a strategist.”

“Why the nerve of—” but Pidge had already left, leaving behind a cloud of spec. Lance’s cheeks coloured with rage but Keith was far too amused to be upset about what he had been moments prior. 

“I quite like her,” Keith said, and Lance glared at him. “I find her far more entertaining than you.” 

Now, Lance was offended. “I’m sure I could relate since you're as colourful as a rock.”

Keith raised an eyebrow, “Are you sure that is globally applicable? Last time I checked; Tortuga’s rocks were very multi-coloured.”

Lance bit back a snare. Curse Keith for being so informative. Definitely, a point to keep in mind for many future spats. 

“You found the gist of it nevertheless!” He yelled. “And why bother about Tortuga? I’m sure you don’t since you have colonized that land.” 

“You're humorous, Lance.” Keith’s eyes excessively darkened, but Lance was not afraid. “You insult the Galra while in Galra territory? That’s extremely humorous.”

“Someone has to alleviate the mood with it being so dubious all the time.” Lance knew he should stop soon—Keith's warning was fair—but for some reason, Lance could not. 

“That’s amusing,” Keith laughed dryly. “But isn’t Altea the one with all the convicts and murderers?”

“That may be true but the Alteans don’t look it. However, you Galra folk certainly do. Must be hard getting accused of committing low life crimes just because you look like you would do it.” 

The two of them could have gone many hours that way; spitting insult after insult to the other. There was no decorum to be found, it went out the window if you were engaged to the supposed enemy. 

Emperor Lotor entered the room.

Keith visibly stiffened and Lance internally groaned. Lotor was not exactly the easiest person to deal with. Of course, there was the usual charm that every Emperor possesses but apart from that, there was something almost sinister-like about Emperor Lotor. 

Lance could not say for certain because, obviously, he had not seen the evil with his own eyes. And Lotor treated him fair enough for the time being

“Keithyr, Prince Lance. I hope I am not interrupting anything?” Lotor asked with a simple smile on his face and his hands held behind his back. 

Lance sported the brightest, fakest smile he could muster and slightly shook his head. “Of course not, Your Highness, we were just indulging in simple talk; the weather.” 

Lotor gave him a disbelieving look. Keith thought, surely, no idiot would think the two men were just talking about the weather when they looked like they wanted to commit first-hand murder. But, Lotor he did not voice his disbelief, much to Keith’s relief.

“I suppose the weather is quite lovely today,” Lotor said, although the look of scepticism did not dart from his face.

“What is it that you want, brother?” Keith cut in before Lance could say anything more. He pushed past Lance until he was standing in front of the man, blocking Lotor’s view of him. He supposed that displeased the Emperor very much. 

“Nothing of interest, Keithyr. I was merely just passing by when I dropped in on you.” 

“What a wonderful coincidence, Emperor Lotor!” Lance beamed. This seemed to make Lotor happy, but Keith could see right through Lance’s cheerful façade. It would probably enrage Lotor if he came to know of Lance’s true feeling towards the Galran Empire. Lance probably detested Lotor more than Keith himself. 

“I have been meaning to happen on you myself,” Lance said.

“And why, might I ask, Lance?”

“It concerns the Galran council. I would like to know exactly how things are run around here if I am to assist you. I want the complete rundown about it, but I figured it would be a tedious affair to explain, so I was hesitant on approaching you.”

“Nonsense!” Lotor barked with laughter. “I would be delighted to assist you, Lance. In fact, may it be for any trivial purpose; please do always approach me first.”

“I will keep you to that, Lotor.” Lance was smiling now, fake or not, Keith could not tell. He watched his brother through hooded eyes, clouded with suspicion. He could tell when Lotor was up to something. It was very rare for the Emperor to be very persuasive and open about affairs like this, but with Lance, he seemed to almost indulge in it. 

Of course, he disliked Lance and his sour attitude. Keith managed to put aside those feelings of regression so that the marriage alliance could work out. He was not the easiest person to work with and he knew it. He thought he would be the black sheep in the relationship—the angry one, the stubborn one, the one who disliked the slightest personal contact. 

He was very wrong.

Lance was an even bigger black sheep than Keith was. Lance made no move to conceal his hatred for the Galra around Keith, his Galran fiancé. It was distasteful, on so many levels, to know that there was a man worse than Keith on matters like these. 

“Perhaps you wouldn’t mind if I stole you away from your royal duties?” 

“Of course not! It would be my pleasure.” 

Was Keith no part of the conversation? Did he not get a say in this?

“Lance, wait. Are you certain you want to be a part of the Galran council?” he asked with little to no ill intention. But Lance’s eyes darkened. 

“I’m a diplomat, Keith. Being a part of a council, Galra, Altean or any other bizarre race out there, is the only thing to look forward to here. Don’t try and stop me; it’s the least you could do.” 

Keith was stunned; pride a little bruised. Lance' words were filled with resentment and malice. It twisted Keith’s insides in the worst possible way. The only thing he could do in retaliation was snarl to show anger and then walking away. He needed to cool off. He needed to not be around Lance. 

Lance was poison, he later decided. A poison that stung once ingested. 

The next day, and the day after that, and that day after that: Keith never saw Lance once. He did not go looking for him, still too upset after the whole blow-up those couple days ago. And, Lance did not come looking for him, so Keith did not take too much strain. Both of them wanted nothing to do with one another and it was so painstakingly obvious to everyone.

Pidge was the only one to make their observation about it though. 

“Your Highness and Prince Lance have such an odd dynamic.” She mentioned to him. They ran into each other at the royal library. It was not odd to find Pidge lurking around the shelves, hung up on some new book. It was her hobby, Keith guessed that much. She always seemed too smart for her own good, smarter than her fellow Alteans. Smarter than Lance but Keith would never rub it in his face, but he did consider it immensely. 

“What do you mean?” He asked, quirking a brow.

“Have you not realised that both of you are similar yet dissimilar in a bunch of ways? Think about it; both of you are prideful, arrogant and a loose cannon. But those similar points cause deflection. Like opposite poles. Lance is prideful in a heritage sort of sense, but you are just plain prideful. It is weird, don't you think? This kind of deflection?"

Keith was flabbergasted. “I think it’s pretty farfetched.”

“But plausible.” 

“You may say so.”

“Your Highness doesn’t seem convinced.”

“That’s because I’m not.” 

“Well, I could always spare a few hours of my time to show you in theory.” 

“No, no, no, no. You do not have to do that, really. I'm sure you're plenty busy.”

“I'm actually not and I could really use this as an opportunity to rest my case, honestly.” 

“Oh well, that’s most unfortunate because I think I hear my name being called. Don’t you hear it?” 

Pidge strained her ears. “No, no I don’t.”

“No, I'm almost certain. I should be going now, Dame Pidge. Goodbye.” 

Pidge watched in amusement as Keith scampered out of the library. She did not feel offended in the slightest for she did want some time to herself really. And Keith scampered through and through the twisty corridors until he was certain that Pidge could not get to him even if she tried.

“Pidge is quiet smart, isn’t she?” Keith mused the day after. They were seated, both Lance and he, at the dining table. Unfortunately, both of their schedules lined up and they ended up dining around the same time. It was hellishly quiet, and Keith found it insufferable. Lance did not look like he was going to talk anytime soon and if things went along this way- Keith reckoned they next time they would converse, it would be while saying their vows. So, Keith became a bigger man than he thought he was and made the first push. 

Lance looked at him but only for a moment. “Yes, yes she is. She’s probably the brightest Altean I have ever met.” 

Keith had let that information roll around his head for a bit. “Isn’t she the royal guard? If she was someone of superior intellect why waste that ability on something that doesn’t require it?” 

It was just a friendly question but by the look on Lance’s face, Keith wasn’t sure what friendly meant anymore. 

“We Alteans find intellect a must for any post. It seems like the Galra do not agree. Perhaps that’s why I found the palace guards, or any guards, quite dim.” Keith startled at the rudeness.

“And don’t get me started on the maids! I wanted a rosemary bath. Rosemary, Keith, rosemary. And what do you think they stirred up? Thyme! Might as well fling me off the edge of a cliff.” 

Oh, Lance had no idea how tempting that sounded to Keith. 

“Lance. Thyme is a natural substitute for rosemary. The maids tried their best for a substitute, and you could be a little more thankful.” 

“Which palace does not have rosemary?”

“You realise that Daibazaal is wasting away resources on the war and no one is allowed to agriculture anything apart from essentials.”

“Goodness, I am convinced that the monarch thinks nothing of their people!”

“We don’t have time for such luxuries, Lance. The Galra don’t have time for long baths with thyme or rosemary or whatever else you Alteans use. Just be grateful! Our hands are doing their best to satisfy your exotic tastes.”

Lance huffed, tucking his chin in the curve of his palm. “I understand, and I'm grateful for it. My apologies, I was discourteous.”

Keith shook his head in quiet disapproval, glaring at him all the while.

Lance, however, was too wrapped up with the disappointment of not having his specific bath to notice. “But I do miss my rosemary baths,” He said.

“And I do miss the time when princes weren’t so spoiled,” Keith mumbled but should have known better with Lance’s Altean ears.

He perked up almost instantly. “Do you have something to say to me, Keith?”

“Perhaps I do,” He said but it was noncommittal. “And perhaps it has to do with the fact that you, Lance of Altea, are the most childish, spoilt and prejudiced person I have ever had the privilege of knowing.”

“That is charming. I am glad you have no qualms of being shrewd, Prince Keith. And I should say—as it is only right—that hideous haircut of yours is a disgrace to the cosmos.”

Keith consciously felt his locks. He was offended. No one insults his hair and lives to see another day. “You know what else mortifies the cosmos? The way you run your mouth.”

“Well, at least I'm not some broody, emotionally constipated young adult with an elder brother who is, quite possibly, the devil himself!” 

“At least I don’t cower under my sibling’s shadow.”

“At least my sibling has done something good in her life.”

“At least I don’t run to father every time I feel one-upped.” 

“At least my father loves me.” 

Keith slammed his fist down on the table, silencing any sort of word vomit Lance was about to spill. He stood, his chair sliding back with a screech. He glared at the Altean, glared at him with all the hate he could offer. Lance had to look away because he could not stand to see the murder in Keith’s eyes, could not bear to see it. 

Keith left the room and Lance never saw him again for a week.

The wedding was due in a week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, I think we can all collectively agree that Lance is definitely not the easiest person to deal with. I would like to point out that I don't always faithfully stick to perfect canon characterisation. I write Lance and Keith according to what I think they would do in situations, and how I want them to react to particular scenarios. The grammar isn't perfect, my writing is definitely not perfect, but I try my best to be eligible.
> 
> All kinds of feedback are much appreciated, and hopefully, the next chapter comes out soon!


	3. For a Breath I Tarry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curiosity burned like a thousand fires. He tugged on Keith’s arm and leaned in to whisper. “Who is that?”
> 
> The Galran Prince, in turn, looked at him with an emotion akin to resignation and simply shook his head, his eyes drifting to Lotor. Lance frowned, fighting the urge to demand an explanation and choose to stay silent as the Emperor’s booming voice echoed through the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this chapter is a bit longer than the others, but I couldn't manage to crop it down, there were so many events that wanted and needed to happen in this chapter. I think now, this fic is heading to a more political route than a romantic one, for I think court intrigue is what will keep this story going. But, do not fret, romance will blossom in due time! 
> 
> Again, English is not my first language but I do try my best to sound eligible. Thank you for understanding!

His parents came down from Altea and so did his sister and Coran, as well as most of his extended family. And, Lance was certainly not ready. He was not ready to be married to someone he despised. And he was very sure the feeling was mutual.

On the day his parents arrived, Keith left Daibazaal on a mission his task force assigned to him, not that Lance cared much about it, but some part of him was bitter that Keith was not going to welcome his parents and kin.

"It’s classified, Lance," is what Keith told him when he asked about the mission.

Lance bristled. “And why shouldn’t I know? I am your fiancé. I am entitled to know.”

Keith’s pupils were wide and dilated as it always were when Lance happened to rile him up. “You don’t need to know and that is final! My affairs are not your concern and it will never be. You are my fiancé in name alone. Not in spirit.”

“Oh! You're getting all spiritual and symbolical with me now, aren’t you?” Lance scoffed and pointed a bony finger at Keith, “Let me tell you, I will not tolerate your nonsense, so unless you want me to barge into the Blade of Marmora’s headquarters and demand to know what sort of classified mission this is, you need to be right with me.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Keith snarled with pointed eyes, his hands were tightly fisted, and his body went rigid. “Lance, this isn’t a matter of what I want to keep from you. It is a matter of the Empire's privacy and it is classified information that not even Lotor knows about. But here you are trying to force everything to go your way. Let me tell you something Your Highness; this isn’t Altea and you are not our Prince.”

Lance reached for a vase that was within his reach and hurled it at Keith’s retreating back. It missed and crashed on the wall beside him as Keith left the room. The Altean Prince let out a strangled scream and spent the rest of that day and the following morning in a grump. The only time he cracked a smile was when his mother descended into his awaiting arms at the Daibazaal dock. His father appeared behind her. His face was as Lance had remembered it; riddled with wrinkles and worry lines but still kept with a certain rugged youth.

“And Prince Keithyr? Is he not well to see us in?” his mother asked, looking around for any signs of the Galran. Lance’s ears perked downward with shame, or anger, or maybe a little bit of both.

He managed a small smile. “No, I am afraid Prince Keithyr had some very important matters to attend to, but he sends his regards.”

Her smile faltered for a split second but mustered it on again, “That’s a pity. I was looking forward to meeting him. How are things between you and the Prince, Lance?”

“Well. Everything is well.” Despite his best efforts to not strain his smile, his jaw hitched, and his eyes narrowed into little slits. “We’re getting along soundly. I am happy with this arrangement; I couldn’t ask for a better beloved.” And giving credit where credit is due, his parents read past all his lies. He did not miss the worried glances his parents shot his way.

Keith only arrived the day of the wedding and Lance was beyond furious. He stormed into the Galran prince’s bedroom and threw a fit.

“Where were you?” he yelled, eyes and movements set ablaze and Keith had to step back. “Do you have any idea how humiliating it was for me? That my fiancé was not by my side through almost everything? I had to decide the icing on the cake, I had to decide on the theme, I had to decide the layout of the wedding invitations, the venue, the pastries and meal courses. I had to do it all by myself!”

Keith was confused. He hunched his shoulders and put his hands up in defence. “Lance, I don’t understand why you are upset about this. It is trivial matters that honestly shouldn’t even have taken up your time.”

“You—you insolent!” Lance shouted, and in a frantic second reached for the thing nearest to him: Keith’s treasured mantel clock, which he fought tooth and nail for at a distinguished auction.

He aimed it at Keith whose eyes are blown wide with panic. “No, Lance, no do not throw that. I am sorry and I will hear you out. Whatever you say, I am sure, will be valid just please put that clock down.”

“What? You’re listening to me only because you’re afraid I’m going to break your mantel clock?” Lance was outraged, livid, offended and positively ready to kill.

“No!” Keith was quick to retaliate. “I’m not—I would never—I'm listening to you, of course, I am! Just—put it down.”

“What’s so fantastic about it? It is a clock, Keith! A worthless clock and it was our wedding rehearsal and you were not there. You were not there, and I had to go through it alone. It is worse enough that I have you for a fiancé, but this is all too much!"

"Well, in my defence, you were adamant that I was not your fiancée a couple of days ago."

"Oh please! You do not get to play the 'but I haven’t done anything wrong' card for you have wronged me, and I simply refuse to let this one slide. So, brush aside the innocent façade Keith and face your mistakes."

"What mistakes? I was just doing my duty to my Kingdom. I am a loyal servant, and it was my job. I cannot brush my job aside so that I can keep you happy and pretty all the time, Your Highness." The Galra let a deep growl escape his barred teeth and resonate in the room. There was a flicker of turmoil in the Altean prince's eyes and for a moment, for a good long moment, Keith thought that he was going to back down and submit. But alas, one could dream so much.

Lance smashed the clock on the ground in a second too fast. He was screaming at Keith to get out and various other slurs. Keith faintly yelled that it was technically his room, but the Altean Prince did not want to hear it. So, he left, slamming the door behind him, and travelling the long hallways.

In a couple of seconds, Lance was in front of him again, a deep frown on his face and hands fisted at the sides.

"Why did you leave!?" Lance demanded, jabbing a finger at Keith's chest.

Keith stared at him. "You told me to."

"I'm sorry?" Lance quirked an eyebrow and shook his head. "No—what?" he huffed, his fists letting up. "So, you just leave because I ordered you to?"

"Yes?"

For some reason, Keith was making Lance mad again. He did not know what he did wrong. If anything, he tried to appease Lance, resolve the situation but Lance was only angered further.

"Why? Why would you do that?"

Keith did not answer. He brushed past Lance and continued down the hallway, but Lance was right in front of him again. "Listen here; don't dare try to make me feel like the villain. I'm not—you are and just because you're trying to be the loving, understanding fiancée, does not mean you are.”

"What is the matter with you? I am trying to give you space! Why do you keep following me?" Lance opened his mouth to speak but his words faltered. Keith shook his head and gave him a disapproving look.

"Lance, you're angry. You're upset and I'm trying not to make you even crosser. I am aware that I am not exactly the poster child for a fiancée, especially not someone you wanted to pin down, but I'm trying. That is why I'm giving you space; I’m not trying to avoid you."

"Keith—”

"Listen, Lance, to tell you the truth, I feel sorry for you. You are stuck with me, and I'm not cutting up to your standards of an Altean fiancée, and I always make you angry. So, I am not going to argue with you, I don’t want to argue at all."

"What? Keith—

"Stop speaking Lance," He scolded and brushed past him, their shoulders thumped together harshly. Lance was left to his own devices for the rest of the day.

Given it was the day of the wedding, Lance was not given much free time to mull over his thoughts and take in what Keith had said. Keith had made him feel…guilty. Not that Lance would ever admit to it out loud, but in his heart, he knew that he had been slightly difficult to Keith. In truth of truth, Keith was handsome, and smart, and charming in his own way—being Galra was his only downfall. If he were Altean, Lance would not be so opposed to the idea of marriage.

But Keith was Galra and that was the fact.

Galran maids were rushing back and forth; stylists exploited Lance in order to achieve the perfect image of a Galran groom. His hair was adorned with golden leaves; the ceremonial robes were red with black lining, and a sash that tightened around his waist. His sleeves were long and wide with no buttons and there were two slits along his sides. After some finishing touches, he was deemed ready and his mother shed tears of joy.

"Oh Lance, never have I thought I would see the day! You have become a worthy groom."

"Really? Even more so than father?" Lance teased with a fond smile. His mother rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"Please, your father was a disaster at his own wedding. Slipped up at the vows and almost tripped on."

Both of them laughed for a while. "That does sound like father," Lance sighed. His mother pinched his ear and shook her finger at him.

"Smile, boy. This is the best day of your life and you will act the part!"

Lance forced a strained smile. "Of course, mother."

She sighed solemnly, kissing his head one last time before departing. "If you ever feel nervous, find me and your father in the audience. We are never far behind, my love."

And then, the ceremony began.

Lance walked gracefully with Keith, who was clothed in scarlet red robes, down to the garden of Union. They held hands as they entered; family and attendees trailing behind them. They halted before the sacred pond, filling their golden, diamond crested cups with its pure water. They crossed arms so the other could drink from their cup. The Galra believes that the water from the sacred pond is so pure that it will cleanse their bodies of unrighteous thoughts—only the pure can stand before the Goddess of marriage and be graced with her blessings.

They trudged slowly to the altar and offered animal sacrifices to appease the goddess.

"Nervous?" Lance asked, tugging on Keith's hand. The druids were too busy offering prayers of fertility to notice them chatting. Keith offered him a small quirk of his lips as if sensing that he was the nervous one instead.

"Slightly."

Lance nodded briskly, turning his head to look at him. "Good, well I'm not—uh—I'll be there to guide you through."

Keith's amused eyes stayed on him for longer than he expected, drinking up his features, the nervous look in his eyes, his furrowed eyebrows, the stern stretch of his lips, his slightly pink cheeks. "Lance, are you sure you're not the nervous one?"

Lance glared at him, hand tightening around Keith's. "Don’t be absurd, Prince Keithyr."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Prince Lance."

They stared at each other in silence; Lance thinking of how he did not want to marry Keith, and Keith thinking of how he could stay out of Lance's way for the rest of their married lives.

"My Princes." One of the druids beckoned them forward. "Stand before the goddess. She is pleased and is willing to bestow upon you the fruit of marriage. Bow before the goddess and offer thanks in return."

They bowed, still holding each other's hands.

The Priest prayed, "Holy goddess, primaeval founder of fecund marriage, bend your bow, and the universe is no longer adrift. If all things come from you, friendly shepherd of life, draw one shot more and save all things. Bless these lawful servants with the tie of marriage, passion of love, and strength of friendship. Látom."

"Látom," Everyone else echoed.

One druid approached Lance and Keith with a ribbon and wrapped it around their waists so that they were pressing close to each other.

"The bond this couple has made today is sacred and holy and should not be broken," The Priest spoke. "For those who see it the bond be broken or is unhappy with the union of these two souls: speak now or forever hold your peace."

Lance darted his eyes among the attendees, hoping that someone would object. It was his last way out, his last and final shot at escaping a loveless marriage. But as he did so, he caught the looks on his parent's faces. They were beaming, tears in their eyes, ones not out of sadness but from joy. His parents were happy for him.

And so were Allura and Coran and his grandparents, and his uncles and aunts, and his friends, his nieces, his nephews, his cousins. They were all so, so, so happy. And, Lance found himself not wanting anyone to object at all.

No one did. And they were married, sealing the ceremony with the traditional kiss. The ribbon was untied, and they walked down the pathway of the garden hand in hand while everyone cheered.

"So, we're now married," Keith said. The reception had begun an hour ago, and the guests were mingling and greeting the newlyweds with their congratulations.

"Indeed, we are Keith," Lance said, and then took a sip from his wine glass. "Wonderful reception I must say. Emperor Lotor outdid himself."

Keith hummed in agreement. "Brother always had a thing for weddings. If no one stopped him, I'm sure he would orchestrate every single wedding on Daibazaal."

"Well, I certainly wouldn’t stop him. The wedding was beautiful."

"You are satisfied?"

"Yes, of course. I am also highly impressed. My niece is getting married sometime next month; I shall hope the Emperor would entertain the idea of orchestrating that wedding as well."

"I shall hope so too."

Lance quirked an eyebrow and lowered his drink. "Keith, you are accompanying me of course."

"Of course," He scoffed.

"You don't seem willing."

"What—no—of course, I'm willing!"

Lance shot him a sceptical look. "Your insistence does little to convince me.”

Keith sighed. "I am willing Lance. I'm just—I feel—I just—”

"Nervous?" Lance offered and Keith meekly nodded.

"Yes. Nervous."

"Of my niece? Well, that is foolish. She could not even hurt a fly, let alone some big muscular Galra. And have I mentioned? She is the sweetest person I have ever met."

"No, not your niece! I'm nervous because of this." Keith gestured in between them. "Of being married to you."

"Don't worry. I feel the same. But Coran said it gets better, being married becomes easier. He said it becomes so easy that it becomes a part of you, and you cannot even remember a time when you weren’t married."

Keith furrowed his brows. "Really now?"

"Yes really. Coran is usually right about these things."

"Even when it's us?"

Lance stopped, did not say anything for a couple of minutes. He looked down, refusing to meet Keith's gaze. When it became apparent to Keith that his question was indirectly answered due to the silence, he huffed and was going to excuse himself to go chat with his brother.

But Lance's quiet voice made him stay.

"Yes, even when it's us."

A few weeks after the wedding, Lance was seated at the Galra court amongst the Galran Elders and officials. To say he was not even a bit nervous would be a blatant lie; it was as if a mouse made a home in a lion’s den. The air was thick with tension and silence wavered around them. One of the Elders cleared their throat and signalled to commence the meeting. They were not supposed to begin without Lotor or Keith but both of them had other engagements, so that left Lance as the only royal in the room—enough to commence a meeting. 

Lance knew that the Galran council functioned no differently from his own from his talk with Lotor, but he was still apprehensive. He was outside of his skin here whereas at home he was surrounded with Altean ministers who were often from his long line of relatives. Everything was alien to him at Daibazaal and he found it hard to come out of his shell without Lotor or Keith present.

“What do you say, Prince Lance?” one of the Elders asked him, pulling him out of his mulling. The tips of his ears burned nasty pink and he gave an apologetic shake of his head. “I’m sorry but what am I to speak upon?”

“The state of the affairs of course! I’m sure His Royal Highness must have briefed you on matters to be discussed.”

Lance nodded, “Yes, my apologies. We shall speak on the matter of the Blade for the remainder of this meeting.”

“We speak on the Blade sans Prince Keithyr? I do not think it is wise to carry on.”

Lance pursed his lips, “As the spouse of the Prince, I speak on his behalf. I know what I speak about; Prince Keithyr has taken his time to explain the working of the blade to me specifically for this purpose.” He could tell from the quiet rumbling that not many were pleased. “Do be assured that there is only one crisis we are to discuss today so I will not pride myself on the complete knowledge of everything that the Blade does.”

“Nevertheless, it seems strange that we make decisions on the Blade without any member of the Blade present,” The Elder said. “It is not that we do not trust your judgement—it seems unethical of the court. I hope you understand the stance we take.”

“Quite right, but unfortunately I cannot summon any of the Blades for this meeting. They have their hands tied with the new mission,” Lance explained. “This is to be an exceptional case, my lords.”

“I do not concur. I will hold on to my badge of silence until either Prince Keithyr or a general of the Blade sits in.” Many agreed with the Elder and practised their right to silence.

“My Lords, I understand the resistance. However, no Blades can be summoned here.” Lance was getting nervous. This meeting was an utter disaster; no one was cooperating with him and he did not know whether it was because he was Altean, but he could certainly think bitter of the lot.

“Then we shall hold off this meeting until a later date, say until His Royal Highness returns from the expedition. What say the Council?” A loud rumble of approval hit Lance like a shockwave and he never wanted to be out of a room faster in his life. Daibazaal has certainly exposed him to a lot of ugly.

“My Lords, please reconsider—” but it was hopeless as the Galra were already dispersing. It was an ugly truth, he realised, that he posed no importance to the Elders of the court. They did not wait for him to agree to the adjourning and it spite him. It was blatant disrespect but more subtly and Lance knew that whatever place he wanted in the court, which Lotor had promised to him, was only in name. He had to earn his respect.

Later, he sat in lounge drinking. He had sent a letter to both Lotor and Keith explaining to them how terribly the meeting went. He did not expect a response anytime soon knowing that they would be too busy to receive letters. Keith had gone on another mission with the Blade and Lotor had accompanied him for a reason not disclosed to Lance. They trusted that he would lead the meeting well and that discussions would come to head with yielding result. They had trusted him with classified information on the operations of the Blade; however, it turned out to be disastrous.

He sighed while tracing his fingertip along the curvature of the wine glass; his gaze snapped to the side and fell upon Pidge. Her nose was buried in a book she nabbed from the royal library, and it might seem like disregard of duties, but the straining of her ears pointed otherwise; she was alert, her ears straining to detect the slightest of sounds. And Lance did not doubt her strengths. She was the royal guard for a reason.

“Say, how do you think the Princes will react?” Lance asked, tilting the wine glass to his lips.

Pidge did not raise her eyes from the book. “I would not think they would react harshly, Your Highness. The most they would do—or say—is express disappointment, but that too seems very unlikely. There is no reason for them to blame Your Highness." 

Lance nodded sagely with lips pressed together in a firm line. “I suppose they wouldn’t. I didn’t think the lords didn’t take much worth in face value.”

“They do have point although.”

Lance quirked an eyebrow while trying to fight off a glare. “Think about it,” Pidge urged him. “In their stance, it would mean making important decisions regarding their most reputable military force without consulting said military force. Moreover, these discussions are headed by someone from a different civilisation.”

“Whose side are you on, pray tell me. I’m a little confused.”

Pidge rolled her eyes. “I’m only just playing Devil’s Advocate, Your Highness.” 

“Well, don’t! It’s bad enough that this meeting blew up in my face so wonderfully, I don’t need your chiding remarks hopping on the bandwagon.”

“There is no bandwagon to hop on. I do not blame Your Highness, and I’m sure the Princes wouldn’t either.”

Lance slouched into his chair. “That’s easy for you to say—you’re not ‘the mighty Lance of Altea who excels in matters of the council’; a diplomat, a charming talker, a lady’s man.”

“Now I just think you’re tooting your own horn here.”

Lance took well to ignore her, carrying on. “It’s my reputation at stake here! My father talked up a storm about it in conversation to the Emperor and look at me now! The council _dismissed_ itself. Do you not understand how humiliating that was for me?”

“I can only imagine.”

“Well, it was! Have you ever heard of a council dismissing itself without the approval of the presiding power?”

“I can’t say I have.”

“ _Precisely!”_

Pidge forced down a snort, watching Lance slump further into his chair—it was if the chair was eating him whole—behaving the way every prince ought not to. If there was one thing she learnt about the Prince, it was that he had a flair for the theatrics. There was gossip among the palace hands—Lance was rash, eccentric and passionate. “An ugly personality”, some would say, but Pidge concurred to think otherwise. It was, in fact, the ugly personality that boosted Lance on the pedestal of the Altean court’s favour.

“I’m retiring for the night; escort me.” Lance lifted himself off the chair, his long robe falling in cascades behind him. Yes, Lance was eccentric at times, absolutely impossible to please, and a bit snarky but no one could deny him of his aura. He was prince not just in title, but by the way he held himself. Pidge inwardly thought as she walks Lance to his room, that Lance was the most magnificent person she had ever seen and was sure no one could stand in contest.

Two days later she learnt that the contest was very much present. Lotor and Keith were on route to the palace after docking earlier that day. The courtiers, including Lance and Pidge, gathered in the throne room to welcome the party. The room was filled with excitement and gossip as it was anonymously that there had been a few hiccups along the way and someone important is to be stationed at the palace. Baseless rumours floated amongst the palace folk, but Lance paid no heed to it. After all, the answer would be arriving at their doorstep in a minute or so.

The heavy doors to the throne room were thrust open and Lotor, Keith quickly behind him, walked in. The chatter immediately died down and no one said a word, eyes glued to the royals walking to the front of the room. Lance swiftly descended from the dais and once in front of Lotor, bowed his head. “I welcome you home, Emperor Lotor. I have faith the expedition went well.” 

Lotor reclined his head and graced him with a smile. “Yes, of course. Have you been keeping the court well?”

“I have done just as you have wished.”

“I have to say, having you presiding over matters during my absence has saved me sleepless nights.”

“I am honoured to be a person of trust. I must thank you for having much faith in me.”

“I disagree. I should be the one thanking you, but it pleases me to see your humbling nature. I trust to leave you in charge of matters of importance henceforth?”

“I shall be prepared to do whatever task you give me.”

“Splendid.” Lotor clasped his hands together. “And please, do greet Keithyr,” he said before moving to take his place on the throne.

Lance turned to his _husband_ and graced him with a slight bow of his head. “Welcome home, my beloved.” The courtiers’ stares reminded him to be formal.

He could feel the weight of Keith’s gaze on him as he leaned upright again—dark, intense, purple orbs that bore into him like a thousand knives—watching even the slight prickle of the fine hairs on his nape, scrutinizing him.

Keith finally spoke, “I’m glad to be home”—and after a beat—“I had missed you.”

Lance felt something lodge in his throat coming up almost shy of a response. “So, did I, my Prince. Three days is much too long a time to be apart I have come to realise.”

Keith cracked a smile. “I concur. I found having no one to argue with to be quite dull.”

Lance rolled his eyes and softly shook his head, muttering something along the lines of “You’re such a child.” And just like that, the formalities were done with and they fell to the side of the residing monarch. That was when Lance had noticed a third figure that had been looming behind Keith. It was a boy, he guessed, not more than two decades in age. He immediately recognised the sigil, the answer coming in seconds thanks to his international studies. 

Tarea was considered a neighbouring Kingdom to Altea and was a part of the Altean coalition. Residents were friendly, from what he has heard. They were a civilisation drawn to the abstract concept of “magical realism”; completely unalike other strong empires who were dependant on advanced technology as fuel. He remembered Coran saying, “An odd bunch of people those Tareans are. All that fuss about elemental bending and ‘being one with the spirit’. Utter nonsense.”

Curiosity burned like a thousand fires. He tugged on Keith’s arm and leaned in to whisper. “Who is that?”

The Galran Prince, in turn, looked at him with an emotion akin to resignation and simply shook his head, his eyes drifting to Lotor. Lance frowned, fighting the urge to demand an explanation and choose to stay silent as the Emperor’s booming voice echoed through the hall.

“As you have all may have heard,” Lotor paused to scan the audience but his gaze never falling on the mysterious figure, “I have an announcement to make regarding the recent expedition to Tarea. The negotiations did fall short and we were met with hostility”—Lance pretended he did not notice the Tarean shuddering—“and many things did not turn out fruitful. But an alliance was secured in the end, through the way of marriage—I am set to marry the Prince of Tarea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yes, we have a new character in our midst. He is not a canon character, simply one I made up in my head. I think he will bring the flavour we want to this story, and I have so much planned for him, this is going to be a rollercoaster. The next chapter will come out tomorrow if I do not find myself busy with something else. 
> 
> Please let me know if you enjoyed this fic. Any feedback is much appreciated as it keeps me motivated to write more!


	4. Away From All Mirth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the palace, it was a learnt lesson that eyes and ears were the fatal enemies and one slip of the tongue could be disastrous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter, but this was the most I could pump out so I could post on time, and on schedule. I hope everyone likes this chapter, we are now introduced to our newest character, and we learn more about him and the situation at hand. 
> 
> English is not my first language, so grammatical mistakes will be present, but I have tried my best to correct them all. Happy reading!

A pin drop could be heard in the loud silence. No one said anything but there was a tight air of shock and disapproval that was unmistakable. Lance found it difficult to hide his shock despite Keith glaring at him in warning. There was an ugly feeling in his chest that he knew was jealousy. He was not permitted to marry the Emperor but apparently, a Tarean could? Being second best was a feeling he was all too familiar with and he bit down hard on his lips to keep from screaming out in anger. 

“I ask not of the court’s approval, knowing too well it was a unilateral decision I made in haste. I ask the court for acceptance for this was the only possible way to peace.” 

The Tarean finally moved and languidly—as if his body moved at a snail’s pace— ascended the dais to stand beside Lotor. From there, Lance could see him more clearly. The boy was beautiful and so young. His feelings of envy and jealousy were replaced with a newfound pity, seeing the discomfort in the way the Tarean held himself. It almost made Lance feel defensive. The boy looked about the same age as his cousin and the pit in his stomach intensified ten-fold. 

“I welcome my betrothed, Prince Kalion of Tarea.” And the people bowed as expected of them. 

The court was dismissed thereafter. 

It was later, within confines of their shared bedroom that Keith began to talk. 

“Most of it was a lie,” he said. “This was not the “only way possible to peace”. He lied. He was infatuated with the Tarean Prince and he proposed to have the unification in marriage.” 

Lance was rendered speechless. The ugly feeling he had earlier was back with vengeance. “And the Tareans accepted just like that?”

Keith furrowed his eyebrows. “I don’t think they cared much. Prince Kalion is fifth in line to succession; he is ‘expendable’, they said.”

“That is awful! How could they do that to him? That poor boy. How could they give him up just like that?” Keith flickered his eyes downwards, tension built up in his shoulders. Lance pretended not to take notice. “How old is the Prince?” he asked. 

“Seventeen,” Keith said. “He’s too young to be in this predicament. Gods, Lance, I feel so awful; I couldn’t do anything for him.” 

“No, you don’t get to do this--blaming yourself,” Lance warned and placed a hand on his shoulder. “It was Lotor’s lust and shamelessness and the Tareans absolute contempt to be blamed. Besides, I doubt you could have changed Lotor’s mind once he wants something.” 

“But I could have done something!” Keith’s eyes flashed dangerously with a fierce light. “You weren’t there. You did not see how scared he was. When we boarded the ship I—he looked so afraid. He flinched whenever we tried to speak to him, and whenever I smiled at him—Lord Helios—he looked at me like I was going maul him.” 

Lance's throat seized up and he could not offer comforting words but his grip on Keith’s shoulder tightened. He prayed that it would be enough. 

“I couldn’t help him, Lance. And I think I will continue to feel sorry for him no matter how much you try to convince me that there was nothing I could have done.” 

Lance did not say anything and both of them remained there, at the edge of the bed with an uncomfortable air of regret around them. 

The silence was finally broken when Keith spoke. “Lance, can I ask you for a favour?” 

Lance frowned but nodded his head. 

“The Prince won’t take kindly to me. I am Galran, and in his eyes, a threat. But you are Altean and if I am not mistaken, Tarea and Altea are friendly allies and members of the same coalition.”

Lance squinted. “You want me to be friends with the Prince?”

Keith shook his head. “Friends would be a stretch. All I want you to do is indulge him. Make him feel at ease.” 

“Keith—”

“Please Lance.”

He looked at Keith and shook his head. “I can’t shield him from reality.”

“And I don’t expect you to. Just—just make sure he is alright from time to time. He’s only a child.”

Lance bit his lip and nodded slowly. “He is just a child”—and after some thought—“It would be cruel to not extend a comforting hand.” 

Keith breathed a sigh of relief and finally let a smile grace his lips. “It would, wouldn’t it? 

“Yes.” he nodded. “So don’t worry about it now. You are back from a long and exhausting trip. You need sleep now more than ever.”

Keith seemed to protest but Lance cut him off with a raise of his hand. “You don’t have to worry. I will take care of the Prince. I will make sure he feels comfortable, so you can leave everything to me and get some sleep. I won’t listen to your protests, Keith.” 

Keith opened his mouth to say something, but after a beat of silence, shook his head and let the corners of his lips curl up. There were traces of sleep in his eyes as his lashes fluttered shut. “Thank you, Lance,” he said in a whisper. 

Sleep came easily to them both after that. 

Lance did not have breakfast with Keith. The Galran rose early in the morning to get a head-start on his royal duties and Lance could not be bothered to wake up just for the sole purpose of having breakfast with his husband. Keith did not mind either, brushing him off with a shrug saying that he did not care for such formalities and that Lance could have breakfast whenever he wanted to and with whomever he pleased. This allowed him to have breakfast at a sharp nine o clock. He had it alone, which was exactly what he hoped for. He did not want to deal with pleasantries with Lotor or Keith at such an early hour. Instead, breakfast was solace. 

That morning he left his chambers and headed towards the dining room at the usual time. Pidge and his handmaiden followed him at an arm’s distance. Stepping into the dining hall he was surprised to see Kalion seated at the table. 

“Prince Kalion. I am surprised to see you dining at this time of day. Shouldn’t you break the fast with Emperor Lotor?” he asked as he seated himself opposite to the boy. 

Kalion nodded. “I should. But Emperor Lotor urged me to have my meal with you.”

“With me?” Lance raised his eyebrows. “I wonder why.” 

“He wanted me to get familiar with you.” Lance gave him a funny look. 

“Quite funny really. Keith also urged this notion. I wonder why they were so pressed for this.”

“I reckon they want us to get along as fellow consorts.”

“Yes, I believe so.” Lance averted his gaze, now playing with his fork. “How did you sleep last night? You must have been tired from the journey.”

The Prince sighed. “The journey was far too short in my opinion.” 

Silence reigned on and Lance was suddenly reminded of the hidden stares of the waiting servants and was privy of all the gossip within palace walls (thanks to Pidge) but was not willing to sprout bad talk about him and Kalion.

“I see.” Lance nodded slowly. “I felt the same on my voyage here.” He gave a nervous laugh. “I was jittery and frightened. The prospect of getting married in a few days made me nervous. At one point, my advisor even had to hold my hand.”

The Tarean cracked a smile but said nothing in response for a few moments. He was playing with his food and Lance thought he was musing over what he wanted to say in his head. And after several moments of silence, he spoke in a whisper, “I would like to see the royal gardens after. One of the maids commented on how beautiful it is and I must see it.”

Lance knew what an extended branch looked like, and he contemplated whether he wanted to take it. He looked at the boy, only seventeen and yet arranged to be wed in a few days. He took in the bitten nails and dark bags under the Prince’s eyes and quickly decided. 

“Indeed, the garden is as beautiful as she said. If you would like, I would love to show you around.” The smile he got in response was made him feel, in a way, very melancholy. 

“I will gladly accept the tour, Prince Lance.” He bowed his head. “I will be in your care starting from today.” 

Lance smiled and they ate together in relative silence. 

The walk to the gardens was fairly silent. Kalion trailed behind Lance as part of proper decorum, and two guards flagged their sides along with Pidge. Pretending not to notice the trails of servants behind them did not completely erase the implication of their presence. At the palace, it was a learnt lesson that eyes and ears were the fatal enemies and one slip of the tongue could be disastrous. 

At the foot of the garden, Lance decided. Dismissing guards was never advisable, and for a Royal Consort, this could mean a matter of life and death. ‘Assailants never sleep’ was the fair warning that was always whispered into his ear at every turn, and he did well to remember it through the years into his fresh youth. Lance did not fancy the idea of vulnerability, but he made the decision during the walk to the gardens.

Turning around, he flicked his wrists in a dismissive gesture. “You may leave us.” His guard protested but he remained firm. “I tell you; leave me and Prince Kalion alone to walk in the garden.”

“But Your Highness”— Lance raised his hand and shook his head. 

“It is an order. I want to talk to the Prince in private. The guard can be stationed at the gate of the garden. The Prince and I will take a leisure stroll; we will back shortly.” He added as an afterthought. 

It appeased the guard and they took to wait at the garden gate. Lance motioned for Kalion to follow him and the young Prince tripped on his feet in haste. They walked through the intricate pathways, stopping now and then to marvel at one thing or the other. Lance took him to his favourite place in the garden—an archway that led to a creek. The first time he found such a place, it had left him breathless. 

There was a bench right next to the creek that they could sit on. At first, it was tentative silence with the both of them marvelling at the beauty of the creek, but it soon dissolved into nervous waiting. There was ice that needed to be broken for Kalion to say what he wanted to say, and Lance took it on himself to do the needful. 

“I know what happened,” he said. “Lotor fooled the council with his lies but I know the truth.”

Kalion did not turn to face him; instead, he ducked his head into his shoulders. “How did you find out? No”—he shook his head—“Prince Keithyr must have told you. It is shameful; you have come to know that my family threw me away.”

”It is a shame on your family for throwing you away and it is a shame on Lotor for lusting after such a young boy.” He turned to grasp the Tarean’s hands and held it firmly in his lap. “It is never on your head.”

“I never spoke to him,” Kalion whispered after a stretch of silence. Lance frowned and his grip on the Prince’s hands tightened. “I never spoke to him at all. How could I? Fifth in line to the throne; I must not speak to the Emperor of the Galra Empire. I barely looked at him throughout his stay. I was always hiding behind my elder sister, being much too shy. All I ever did”—his voice trembled along with his hands, and Lance saw the tiny pools that formed in his eyes—“all I did was compliment his looks during dinner. How could I have known that it would lead me here?”

“You couldn’t have.” Lance soothed, gently rubbing the boy’s back. “It is not on your head. You need to understand that.”

“I don’t know what I could have done, Prince Lance.” He raised his head and their eyes met. A clash of ocean blue and homely brown and Lance could see memories in his. “I just want to go home.”

Lance swallowed thickly and took a while to figure out what to say next. Kalion was in a fragile state just as he had once been, and handling him is a matter of delicacy. He was reminded of his parents, his mother’s carefully strewn words and his father’s soft touches. Kalion had neither, he realised. 

“I understand,” he said. “I was in your exact situation myself a couple of moons ago.”

“I wouldn’t have believed you, Prince Lance. You don’t look as if you were forced to be here.”

“Oh, but I was. I did not react with fear. Instead, I acted out. I hated the Galrans with every fibre of my being and I was determined to not comply. Prince Keith had a hard time with me.” He let out a soft chuckle. To think it had come to a time where they could sit beside each other and indulge in amicable discussions; time truly worked his hands. 

“I would not have guessed,” Kalion said. “At the throne room, it looked as if you were”—he paused, pursing his lips and furrowing his brows—“lovers. Was I mistaken?”

“Greatly. We are the farthest thing from friends let alone lovers. As I said, I despiced Keith and he did not take to me too fondly. We quarrelled every time we were together, couldn’t stand the sight of each other.”

“If that is so, how did you get to the state you’re in?” asked Kalion. 

Lance told him, “At our wedding, I truly realised my situation. All that time, I hoped that by getting Keith to hate me, I could escape a loveless marriage. I was so terrible to him. I dropped every formality I have ever learnt, I spoke to him brashly, cursed at him, thrown things at him. It was as if decorum went out the window whenever it came to Keith.”

Kalion looked horrified. “Was that how you behaved with him all the time?”

“By the gods, how petty must I be to do that?” Lance laughed. “No matter how much I loathed him, he is still a prince to his people. I treated him with reverence in public, much like how you first saw us, but behind closed doors, it was very different.

“But over time I came to realise my wrongdoings.” He ran his thumb over the soft skin of Kalion’s hands, “but I can’t say I’ve got to the stage where I regret my behaviour. I still have a ways to go before I get there. I just hope that Keith could find the semblance of forgiveness to give me.”

“I’m certain he would forgive you, Prince Lance. I don’t think anyone could find it in themselves to not forgive you; you are very kind.” Kalion looked so earnest that Lance let out a small laugh. He raised his hand slowly and tousled the boy’s hair. 

“I am glad you think so, and I hope you are right. You should give it time, Prince Kalion. It might not look great now but soon you will make peace with your situation. I have made peace with mine and everything is better. Keith and I are on polite terms with each other at present and that is more than I could have hoped.”

“I don’t think I can ever forgive Emperor Lotor,” Kalion said with a shake of his head. “He took me away from everything I had ever known. How could I make peace with that?”

“That I do not know. It is your fight, Prince Kalion. Forgiving him is entirely up to you, only you know how to. I can only support you to the fullest of my abilities.”

“And you will?”

Lance smiled at him. “I make my promise to you. I will be there for you whenever you need it and I will vouch for you whenever you call upon it. Fellow consorts must be in each other’s favour, yes?”

“Yes, I agree.” Kalion returned his smile and they sat quietly for a few more minutes, admiring the flow and the blue of the creek, and magic of the garden. They returned to the foot of the garden, where their guards waited for them and made haste to the palace as it was nearing dinner. 

Lance maintained his soft, wavering gaze on Kalion throughout dinner. While Keith and Lotor, and occasionally Lance himself, made small talk over dinner, Kalion remained silent. But Lance could tell there was some sort of contentment to his silence, and he was pleased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have realised that I have painted Lotor in a bad light, but oh well! Keith and Lance have been getting along, but I would like to point out that it is not a romantic advance but more of a platonic one? They are learning to trust each other for the time being, and feelings will bloom in given time!
> 
> Please do let me know if you have enjoyed this fic! I would love to hear what you have to say as it keeps me motivated to write more!


	5. No Wind Of Blame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haxus clenched and unclenched his fist, seemingly lost in deep thought. Lance waited patiently; sipping on his tea, knowing it would be a matter of minutes before the Lord conceded. After all, for nobility, gossip and scandals are the evilest of enemies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-da! Haxus is here! And with him he brings a web of such-a-mess. There is so much politics, so much court intrigue i have planned for this work I can barely contain my excitement. So, please do enjoy the chapter and do tell me what you think :)

Lance and Kalion grew closer as the summer days stretched on. Walks in the garden led to time spent together at the library. Kalion reminded Lance of his youngest cousin, a young innocent soul who had curious eyes, owlish with large lashes and sprinkled wonder. Kalion followed Lance like a lost puppy, as Pidge once said which Lance found very amusing. Whenever he was not with the Galran council or entertaining a guest, Kalion would be right beside him. This was to be expected, of course. Lance was one of the two Alteans around, so he provided great comfort to the Tarean prince. 

Kalion did not fall in well with the Galra council who considered him too weak to be the royal consort, and Lotor fell greatly out of favour with many Galran Elders because of his decision. He tried to appeal to the court, but they shut him down straight away, demanding the reason behind choosing Kalion over four other possible options. Lance watched this heated discussion take place with satisfaction. His dislike for Lotor grew ten-fold because of what he had done to Kalion and he felt that it was his duty to oppose Lotor in retaliation. 

Of course, he did so in a subtle way. He would never dream of falling out of favour with the Emperor for that would be a foolish thing to do. Instead, he contradicted the Emperor in court, brought up counter-arguments for any decision taken him, advised him against set courses of action, sided with opposing parties etcetera. It annoyed Lotor but not to such an extent that Lance lost favour. 

The wedding day was drawing near and Kalion pleaded for Lance to change Lotor’s mind. He shot down the idea almost immediately for it would result in him angering Lotor directly. It was not his place to ask Lotor to reconsider. Kalion desperately clung to him, begging, and crying for him to do something before it was too late. His heart broke for the boy and regretted feeling so helpless. Maybe it was sympathy for someone going through a similar circumstance, or maybe it was the knowledge that he had some power over the situation, but Lance found himself at the home of one of the Galran Elders one morning. 

He had sent a messenger to the Elder the same morning, informing him that he would arrive in a couple of hours and that he must be there to receive him. Of course, Lance being a consort of the royal family made no room for rejection. When Kalion noticed that he was going somewhere, he begged for Lance to take him along, but Lance refused, saying that he did not need the company. 

When he reached the manor of the Elder, he was there to receive him as per proper decorum.

“Your Highness,” the Galran greeted. “I hope the journey here was not one of discomfort. I would have come to the palace if only you had extended the invitation.” He extended his arm and Lance took it as he descended from the carriage. 

“Please, it was I who wanted to meet you, Lord Haxus. It is only proper if I make the trip down,” Lance said. “It is good for me if I get out of the palace more often.”

Haxus led him inside the manor. “As splendid as the palace is, one does get quite, how should I put it, delirious after staying too long.” They walked into a small wooden room that branches off from the main wing. Lance supposed that that was where the Galran Lord entertained his most important guests, far away from the usual peeping tom. The room was the usual lounge with sofas and armchairs and a teapoy in the centre of the room. 

“I hope this arrangement wasn’t too sudden,” Lance said as he sat down on one of the armchairs. Haxus moved to sit across from him. “Apologies for any inconvenience this might have caused you.”

“Preposterous! It is my pleasure to receive a member of our royal family. You have caused no such inconvenience to me, Your Highness. Please do not think so.”

“That is good to hear. I'm afraid as the wedding draws closer, I wouldn’t have time to make visitations. That is why this was so sudden.” 

“I heard that you are in charge of the wedding. The lords and I agreed that the wedding would be marvellous as you are in charge of it.” 

The servants came in with tea and finger food and Lance was poured a cup by Haxus himself—as a sign of goodwill and reverence. Lance accepted and took a sip of the freshly brewed tea. “Prince Kalion requested that I look over the preparations. I wouldn’t have had half a mind to do it were it not for him.”

“Yes well, how has Prince Kalion been faring? Forgive me if I pry but I heard that he has not been doing well.”

Lance raised an eyebrow. “Prince Kalion is not sick. Why is that absurd rumour going around?”

“Unfortunately, that is not what the rumour is insinuating to.”

Lance let out a soft hum and placed his teacup down, reclining back into the armchair. He traced patterns on the fabric absent-mindedly. “I won’t take much of your time, Lord Haxus,” he said, eyes boring into the Galran, taking in every subtle detail. “I will get right down to it; I want Prince Kalion to be given a seat in the royal council.” Haxus chocked on his tea and launched into a coughing fit. Lance waited patiently for the fit to subside. “Did I say something appalling?”

Haxus wiped at his mouth with a napkin, and when he was done, cleared his throat and sat up straighter. “Your Highness…Prince Kalion? Is there a reason why you want to admit him as a member of the Royal Court?”

“Need there be? He is of royal blood, and what is more—the Royal Consort of the Emperor. I think that is reason enough on its own.”

“But Your Highness,” Haxus argued. “Prince Kalion has no prior experience in the operations of the court! It would be unwise to have him as a member.”

“Lord Haxus, are you telling me that every single official of the royal court has prior experience?” Lance questioned, leaning forward. Haxus haughtily nodded his head.

“Of course! It is the Royal Court and not some peasant court, Your Highness. One must earn their rank or a rank would not mean much at all. ” He chuckled as if finding the idea to be humorous. Lance hummed, now leaning back. 

“Indeed a preposterous notion. An official doing the same would be stripped off his rank.”

“Absolutely! No question about it,” Haxus said and made an exaggerated gesture with his hand. “It would be a dishonour to His Royal Majesty who places faith in the Royal Court.”

“I see,” Lance said and glanced around the room. “My! What a wonderful family you have, Lord Haxus.” The Lord looked confused at first but followed Lance’s gaze to one of the only pictures on the wall.

“Thank you, Your Highness. My family is my pride and joy.”

“Yes, as they should be. Is that your son? I recognise him from the council.”

Haxus beamed with pride. “Yes, he aids Lord Sendak. You must have seen him sitting at his side.”

“Rightly so! Then, I suppose you wouldn’t mind me meeting Lord Sendak and having his court appointment revoked?”

“…I beg your pardon?” 

Lance sighed. “I hope you won’t make it habit of telling me to repeat myself; I quite dislike it. Your son, Lord Haxus, I will have his appointment revoked.”

Haxus’ face darkened. His eyes narrowed into slits and he pursed his lips together in a grimace. “Did I do something to offend you?” he asked, and Lance let out a snort. 

“Hardly. I was just going by what you said. Officials of the court need prior experience; officials of the court must be practised; officials will be stripped off their position otherwise.” 

“Your Highness, my son has been with the court for nearly—”

“Should it matter? He had no prior experience.”

“Your Highness, I would advise you of boundaries—” Lance cut off him with a shake of his head. 

“Advising me of holding my tongue is not your place. We shall take it to Lord Sendak or better yet, shall we take it directly to Lotor?” Haxus’ eyes grew in size with the flippant use of the Lotor’s name without dignitaries. “As you said, it would bring shame to Lotor who places his faith in the royal court—no, I suppose now it would be a peasant court now.” 

“Years have already passed! My son has a large following and is even liked by the Emperor! Why do you think you can threaten me with this?” 

What a fool, Lance smirked. Haxus did not even bother to deny it—incredibly gullible and rash as Lance thought he would be—nevertheless, he had done much to dig up information on the members of the Houses of the Lords from records kept in the royal library. He found it odd that the son of Haxus did not have much occupational background and yet was a member of the Royal Court and aided Sendak, the senior-most elder. He went to the House of Haxus on a gamble, expecting denial and non-compliance but Lord Haxus proved to be a foolish man. 

“It would be a nasty scandal, wouldn’t it?” Haxus’ face paled significantly. “It would be the talk of the town, tarnishing not only the pride of the House of Haxus but also the pride of the Royal Court. And what’s more? An Altean unearthing this—scandalous!” 

“What is it that you want?” Haxus barked, barely even sitting on his chair, his sharp claws clutching the arms of his chair so tight that it penetrated the silk and his fangs peeked out from behind his upper lip, but Lance was not wary at all.

“What is it that I want? Lord Haxus, you really must pay attention!” Lance mocked. “I want Prince Kalion to be given a court appointment.”

“Why not ask Lord Sendak? He is the Lord High Steward, senior-most among all the lords!”

“Indeed he is, but he won’t get me the votes I need for Kalion’s appointment. Last I heard, you are very popular among your peers, Lord Haxus. It would be a shame if you weren’t so well-liked anymore all because of something dug up from the past.” 

Haxus clenched and unclenched his fist, seemingly lost in deep thought. Lance waited patiently; sipping on his tea, knowing it would be a matter of minutes before the Lord conceded. After all, for nobility, gossip and scandals are the evilest of enemies.

Haxus sighed, “Alright, consider it done. I shall persuade the other lords to vote yes at the trial of the appointment. Prince Kalion shall receive an official letter of appointment after the wedding.”

Lance nodded. “Very good but let me be clear; I do not want him to be given a position of officials, Lord Haxus—no! I want him to be given a seat at the Royal Council of elders. I make myself clear on this.” Haxus twitched his eyebrow in ill-concealed irritation. 

“Very clear, Your Highness.”

Lance smiled in approval and rose to his feet. “Then that will be all. No need to see me off. You have my thanks, Lord Haxus. Please do write to me about the trial.”

Haxus lightly bowed his head but said nothing. Lance took it as his cue to leave. 

At the palace, he was immediately confronted by Kalion, who kept pushing inquiries on where he had gone, but he did not answer. Kalion was not to know of his plan until later when he was sure everything would go smoothly. Otherwise, he might have to scrap the idea halfway and then explain to Kalion why he couldn’t be part of the Royal Council, and he did not want to see the look of disappointment cross the boy’s features, especially if it is directed to him. If before he felt tied to Kalion because of his promise to Keith, he now felt responsible for the boy out of his own volition. Kalion had grown on him—that is a simple truth. 

The day the received Kalion’s family was the day that he was struck with the hard truth. As the wedding was within a week, guests poured in like streams into the palace. The wedding of Emperor Lotor and Prince Kalion of Tarea was most talked-about, and everyone who had any sort of social standing or power was to be in attendance. But that proved to be an absolute nightmare for the palace folk. Lance had never seen the palace so alive before, not even for his wedding with Keith. He suspected that there was additional staff recruited just for the upcoming days, twice the number of servants for twice the number of guests. 

Keith was temporarily taken out of Blade missions—Lance did not know if this was out of Keith’s own volition or if it was a request from Lotor—to entertain the guests along with Lance who was ordained Chief. Keith complained and grumbled at first but then was pacified as he became familiar with the nobles that he was entertaining. But Lance had a difficult time. Along with Lotor, he was in charge of planning the wedding and was also expected to entertain guests with Keith. It did not help that Kalion was stuck to him like glue everywhere he went, so the news of Kalion’s family arriving eased Lance into thinking that the Tarean would be occupied.

Lotor accompanied Kalion to receive his family at the hangars. The Tarean Prince initially wanted for Lance to go with him, but Lance declined, saying that it would only be proper if Lotor went instead, and appeased the Tarean by saying that he would meet his family at dinner. Truthfully, the only reason he refused to go along was that he was meeting Haxus privately. The Lord came to inform him about the current standing of the council regarding Kalion’s admission, much to Lance’s chagrin; most of the Elders were not in favour. Of course, he reminded Haxus that this could not end up as the outcome by mentioning his son, and Haxus assured him that it would not. He left shortly after. 

Lance asked his handmaiden to put off the rest of his duties as he was expected at dinner where he would finally meet Kalion’s family. The Tarean told him much about them during the short time they spent together. He mainly spoke about his siblings—he was not close to his parents—to him; he had three older sisters and one older brother who he had a ‘special’ relationship with. He spoke of many of their adventures and in turn, Lance spoke about many of his. It was then that he realised—Kalion was the only one who he spoke to about his family. That in itself was a feat. 

He was late to dinner for his meeting with Haxus had run longer than he expected, but he supposed he would be excused without further thought as it was well known that he was a very busy man. 

“Apologies for my tardiness,” He said, walking into the dining room where everyone was present. “Your Majesties, it is a pleasure to meet you,” He greeted. The King and Queen of Tarean accepted his greetings and echoed one of their own, he then greeted all of Kalion’s siblings. After formalities were out of the way, they feasted. 

“Prince Lance, Prince Keithyr, I know that it is well overdue, congratulations for your marriage,” the Queen said, looking at them with her pretty eyes. “How long has it been since the wedding?”

“Exactly a month, Your Majesty,” Keith answered. 

“Ah yes, the blossoms of young love!” she chirped with a cheery expression that made Lance feel a little uneasy. “How wonderful indeed.”

“Your Majesty, may I compliment you on how wonderful you look tonight?” Lance chimed in, feeling the need to establish an air of comfort, which was what he was good at. “Is Your Majesty wearing House of Sillage?”

The Queen was surprised. “You recognise the scent?”

“It is one of my favourites, along with the Rouge series which I hold superior.”

“You are a man of true taste, Prince Lance! It is refreshing that a man cares for the finer things.” 

“As any man should, I say.” He chuckled, bringing his wine glass to his lips.

“Quite right. I noticed that lovely signet ring you are wearing, could it be…”

“Yes, the Stone of the Heart. It is a present from my sister for my birthday.”

“What an exquisite gift!” the Queen sighed almost dreamily but then her expression changed into something more reserved. “And, Princess Allura has been doing well these days?”

“Very well. Thank you for asking.”

“Yes, the famed Princess Allura.” The King’s rough voice send ripples through Lance’s entire body. It was then that he realised why he would never mingle with the Tareans during a meeting of their—the Altea & Co. coalition—shared alliance. The Tareans were known for their menacing aura and towering statures. It was a miracle how the Queen appeared much like a dainty maiden, only passing on her gene pool to Kalion who looked much like a harmless lamb. The rest of the royal family took after the King. “—such a strong spirited woman. You must be proud of such a sister.”

“She is my pride and joy, Your Majesty,” Lance answered earnestly. “It is an honour that you hold her in such high regard.” 

“She has earned my respect—more than any other Altean. When she ascends the throne, I plan to personally send my regards.” 

“Yes, indeed!” the Queen nodded. “Everyone is awaiting her coronation! I especially anticipate the birth of a Queen!” 

Lance subtly bowed his head. “She will be honoured of such remarks, Your Majesty.” The Queen gave him a smile and a shake of her head and the conversation stopped there. There was a light atmosphere as everyone conversed between themselves. Lance was certain that the remainder of dinner would go smoothly and accordingly. 

“Lovely wine,” the Queen complimented. “Will this be served at the wedding? I would hope so!” 

“Of course, it is the finest wine in all of Daibazaal. I am glad that it pleases you,” Lotor said. 

“And the assortments of desserts are wonderfully chosen! I was surprised to see many of Kalion’s favourites. I am impressed, Emperor Lotor.” 

Lotor chuckled and shook his head. “If there is anyone to give your compliments to, it should be Prince Lance—giving credit where credit is due.”

“Yes!” Lance heard Kalion speak for the first time that night. “I asked him to be the chief wedding planner and he has done such a magnificent job! Mother, Prince Lance is to be thanked.”

Lance cleared his throat, put down his cutlery without making a sound, and looked up to meet the Queen’s heavy gaze. “Emperor Lotor and Prince Kalion are too kind,” he said with a smile. “I only did what was expected of me.” 

“Nevertheless,” the Queen spoke. “There is no denying your exquisite tastes, Prince Lance. As expected of a fine Prince!” she let out a rambunctious laugh.

“You flatter me, Your Majesty.” 

“There is never too much of that around, I should say.” She chuckled, twirling her wine glass between her fingers. “And no wonder you are well known for your charm. Meeting you in person has certainly cemented this.”

Lance played it off with laughter. “I have to disagree, Your Majesty. I have been told that Allura is the better-looking one.” He gave a quick look around the table only to find that no one else was communicating—they were focused on the on-going conversation between him and the Queen. If the Queen noticed this, she did not give any indication that she was bothered. 

“Speaking of your family; when will they be arriving?” She asked.

Lotor looked at Lance. “I’ve received word that they would be arriving soon, quite possibly tomorrow.” 

“I haven’t seen King Alfor in a bit some time.” The King mused. “To be meeting for this wonderful occasion pleases me.” 

“Your Majesties, if I may…” Lance spoke and immediately everyone was looking at him, waiting. “Shall I propose an idea?”

Lotor nodded his head and motioned for him to proceed. Lance bowed his head in quiet thanks. 

“Shall I arrange for Your Majesties to embark on a hunting trip as per the tradition? Prince Kalion has told me of Your Majesty’s love for the sport. And there is a fitting hunting ground not a while from here. If it delights Your Majesty…” he trailed off, leaving the question hanging in the air. There was definite silence for a while until the King made to break it. 

“Yes.” The King cleared his throat. “That is a fine idea. It has been a while since my last sport. I trust that you shall make the needful arrangements?” 

Lance bowed his head. “Yes of course, Your Majesty. Emperor Lotor, shall I make to clear your schedule as well for the weekend?” 

Lotor did nothing but give him a tight-lipped nod. He then turned to his husband. “Shall I do the same for you, my beloved?” 

Keith stared at him for a few beats and Lance wondered if his husband began to suspect him, or began to figure him out, which should not be possible as he was very discreet with his plans. But Keith kept looking at him with imploring eyes which made Lance feel exposed, and Keith was calculating and meticulous and it would be a matter before—

“Yes, please do. I have been meaning to put a halt to my duties for some time now. This should be my well-deserved break.” 

Lance nodded, going back to make small talk with the Queen and a few of Kalion’s siblings, but was unable to mask away the sly grin that his face donned. It was perfect, he thought, with everything sailing so smoothly, it was perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will things come back to bite lance in the ass? most definitely. will Lance continue to manipulate to get his way? most most definitely. Will things turn out to be in his favour? Most definitely not! 
> 
> The next chapter will be out in a couple of days, so please stay tuned for it! Thank you for all the love and support you have given this fic so far, I greatly appreciate it!


	6. All The King's Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith turned around to face Lance again. He leaned in close and whispered into his ears, “Do not cause much trouble. There are eyes and ears everywhere, and they are not too pleased with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Apologises for being months off schedule, This story was a bit difficult to get together and figure out which way I wanted it to go, but now I think I got a handle on things. With that being said, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

He received his family the next day, his mother clinging onto his arms and his father curling an arm around his shoulder, in subtle possessiveness. He greeted the rest of his family who he had not seen since the wedding, he missed them all so much. He stayed close with his sister for the ride back to the palace, holding onto her hand in a fierce grip as if she were to melt away if he let go. They conversed in hushed words, Lance telling her all that happened, not leaving out a single detail, and sharing all of his plans. 

“Lance,” she said with her voice soft and slow. “Are you positive about this?” 

Lance smiled and patted her on her arm in an attempt to get her to relax. “You do not have to worry, Allura. I know what I am doing, and I have to do this. Not just for myself but also for—” he stopped, his eyes downcast, and his hand trembling. Allura frowned and interlaced their fingers, like how they always did.

“I understand,” She said slowly. “I cannot wait to meet him.” She smiled and Lance reciprocated albeit it was a tired one. They arrived at the palace where they were greeted by the Royals. His mother and aunts were quick to disperse with the Tarean Queen, chatting up a storm whilst doing so, and his father was quickly approached by Lotor, Keith, as well as the Tarean King, conversing about the hunting trip which Lance had briefed his father about on the trip to the palace. 

“Come, let us leave.” He grabbed Allura’s hand and led her away from the main hall and towards his private chambers. He ordered Pidge to be stationed outside his room and to not let anyone inside unless otherwise told—Keith was not an exception, Lance decided, and he could deal with the retributions later. 

“What about him? Did you do as I asked?” he questioned as soon as they were inside the confines of his chamber. Allura sighed and sat on his bed. 

“It took a lot of pulling of strings on my part but”—she took out an envelope from the satchel she carried—“this is the official letter of ordinance. They will not refute this; I guarantee you that.” 

Lance took it and quickly scanned through its contents thoroughly, after which he gave his sister a content smile. “This will do nicely. Thank you, Allura.”

She shook her head. “No thanks necessary. I did this for you and no one else. But please do not make this a habit; there is only so much I can do without garnering scrutiny.”

Lance nodded. “Of course, I understand, the future Queen of Altea should never have a bad reputation. I will be sure to come to you only when necessary.” 

Allura looked at him, and then rubbed a hand over her face. “I do not like this, Lance. Not one bit. Just the thought of him all alone here with his family light-years away; it unsettles me.”

“I realise,” he whispered, clutching the envelope tightly in his hands. “Of course I do. I just—a selfish part of me misses him all too much. I just need to see him, Allura.”

She did not say anything to him for a while, and Lance knew that he was being selfish, and he was dooming someone to the same fate as him—thousands of miles away from home and all alone. When he wrote the letter to Allura, she had immediately responded, reprimanding him for even thinking of it. He understood, he had family back at Altea, had a whole life back at Altea, and yet…Lance was selfish, wanting him by his side again. 

“He is to board a cargo ship and arrive on the day of the wedding,” Allura informed. “On his arrival, you are not to greet him, you are not to approach him until the wedding ceremony is finished and the reception has commenced.” She gave Lance a stern glare, daring him to rebuke her instructions. He did not, but he was not all pleased. 

“Of course that much I understand,” he grumbled. “But I was hoping that he would arrive during the hunt.”

“So, that is the underlying reason for it then.” 

“No.” he rolled his eyes. “I explained my reasons for it. This is just a wonderful bonus, coincidentally.” He walked to his wardrobe and threw it open, pulling out outfits one by one. Allura stood behind him. 

“Wear something blue. It was always your colour,” she said and held up a blue robe. “You’d look ravishing.” But Lance shook his head and pushed it away. 

“I have always worn blue. I am wearing blue."

Allura tapped her chin, considering. She pushed Lance aside and started to rummage through his wardrobe, flinging outfits over her shoulders as she did so. Lance sighed; he might need to call the maids again. 

She made a sound of exclamation, whipped around, and pushed a top garment to Lance’s chest. “This looks ravishing, do not you think? Send for your handmaidens while I find an appropriate bottom garment for you.” She looked through Lance’s wardrobe even after the handmaidens arrived and were done dressing Lance in his inner garments. 

“Have you not found anything still?” he snapped as his patience wore thin. “I know you’ve always considered yourself superior in fashion, but my collection cannot be that horrible. I know this is just your excuse to dress me up.” 

“Do not exaggerate, Lance. I am just looking for something exotic. Do not give your Hands a hard time and stop squirming.” Lance glared at her but did as she said, and the Handmaidens quickly fitted the top blouse which diagonally crossed each other, with the left crossing over the right. He gave himself a once-over in the mirror. 

“Don't you think this is a bit much? I am just going to have an audience with Lotor” Allura rolled her eyes in response, and in her arm, she held the lower garment: white trousers, and a silk lavender robe. 

“You look flawless in everything, and lavender blends very softly with your tan skin. Plus, dress to impress, isn't that what they always say?"

Lance groaned but wore it anyway. His handmaidens smoothed out his clothes, adjusted it perfectly, and went to style his hair and touch upon his face. 

“When are you going to meet him?” Allura asked. 

“Later tonight, well over dinner. You will keep Kalion entertained during that time yes?” Allura nodded her head, and Lance breathed out a shaky sigh. 

“It will all go accordingly, Lance.” She assured and took her brother’s hands after he was completely done with dressing up, and the maidens had long since left the room. “You will not go out of favour. You will be given power again and you will do things in favour of yourself. He will comply, I'm sure of it” Lance gave her a smile and a nod of his head. Allura patted his cheek. “Come now, you must introduce me to Kalion.” And hand in hand, they walked out of the room. 

After dinner, Lance walked along the corridors with Pidge flanking his right. He wrung his hands tightly behind his back as he thought through whatever he needed to do. He left Allura with Kalion, whom she got along with splendidly, and silently slipped away from dinner. No one noticed, not even Keith who was animatedly chatting up Kalion’s older brother. 

He stood in front of oak doors, now gnawing at his lip. He raised his hand up to knock but faltered shortly. Pidge gave him a puzzled stare and knocked for him instead. He glared at her and held in his urge to reprimand her as the affirmative, “Come in,” said Lotor from the other side of the door. He straightened his shoulders and cleared his throat before walking in. 

“Forgive the intrusion,” he said, walking up to the centre of the room, “but I needed to have an audience with you.” 

“Yes of course,” said Emperor Lotor and he leaned on his elbows that were propped on his desk. “What do you need to discuss?”

Lance looked down. “I realise that I owe you an apology. Forgive me for yesterday during dinner with the Tareans. I spoke without turn and made for decisions without seeking your approval beforehand. It was my mistake, and I will reflect on it.” He declined his head in some semblance of a bow. 

“Yes, I suppose that was out of turn,” Lotor said and shuffled through papers. “And I suppose it did not come to mind that there was an upcoming royal council hearing?” he quirked a brow at Lance. 

“I deeply apologise. It was my only intent that King Severus and my father spend a few days in company before the wedding. And I extended the invitation to you as I thought it would be a good catalyst for your relationship.”

“Your intent is not coherently malicious,” Lotor hummed. “What do you suggest I do regarding the council?”

“I am not certain, Your Highness. I regret putting you in this position.” 

Lotor sighed, put down his papers and reclined against his chair. “You must know Lord Sendak is not the easiest man to please.” 

“I apologise. If it eases your burden, I will gladly take it off your shoulder.”

Lotor stared at him and he immediately averted his gaze to the floor in a show of subtle but voluminous submission. Lotor did not speak for a few seconds and when Lance inclined his head, he found Lotor had gotten up from his seat and was now standing in front of him.

“Tell me Lance; did you think I was furious?” Lance nodded his head. “It did irritate me that you did not approach me for the matter beforehand.” 

Lance nodded his head. “I apologise sincerely, Emperor Lotor. I wasn’t—”

“But I suppose mistakes do happen even to the best of us,” Lotor said and his gaze took in Lance avidly. “You shall deal with this yourself?”

“I will do as you want. Should I put off the meeting until you return?”

Lotor hummed and a small smirk tugged against his lips. “Should you? What do you think should be done?”

Lance frowned and pursed his lips. “Your Highness, I do not—”

“The meeting doesn’t need to be put off. I trust you know what should be done.”

They stood in silence before Lance broke into a smile, slightly inclining his head. “I shall do as you wish, Lotor.” 

“And are you to be somewhere this night?” Lotor asked as his gaze moved up and down Lance’s figure.

“Do I need an occasion to indulge in myself a little?” Lance questioned, raising an eyebrow. Lotor chuckled and leaned back.

“No harm. You look wonderful as always, Lance. I do hope you wear this colour more often.”

“A request from the Emperor himself?” Lance held a hand to his forehead. “I might be mad if I decline.”

“Indeed.” Lotor took a glance at the paperwork lying on his desk. “Then, if this discussion has come to a head, I have matters to attend to.”

Lance nodded. “I shall not keep you longer, Lotor. I bid you goodnight.” Lotor echoed one of his own and departed to his and Keith’s private chamber with Pidge following closely behind.

The next day, he had to see off Keith and his father as they embarked to the near mountain ranges for the hunting trip. He embraced his father and wished him a safe trip and for show, he placed a light kiss on Keith’s cheek as a farewell. He ignored his mother’s noises of delight as Keith caressed his cheek—it was all for a show at any rate. 

Aware of the many eyes on them, Lance said, “You ought to be safe. I know it’s aggravatingly hard for you to take care of yourself but, with me in mind, you must.” 

Keith rolled his eyes but responded with a small smile. “I make no promises except that I will return in one piece.”

“If you do not, let it be the head that comes back to me. I am quite fond of it.” Keith shoved his shoulder in response.

“Will you still love me as a leg?”

Lance pursed his lips. “Always, till death do us ‘part.”

“Those implications are a little bleak, Lance.”

“As much as I would love to argue about the romanticism of it all, you mustn’t keep them waiting. My father looks ready to burst into flames under the heat.” They looked to where the others were waiting and greatly failing to make it imperceptible that they were staring at Keith and Lance. 

“It is that,” Keith nodded and looked back at Lance, “or it could be the close proximity between a handsome young man and his son.”

Lance chuckled. “Please, my father could only hurt a fly.” 

“Then paint me black and give me wings because a fly is certainly what I am.” 

Lance could not stifle the loud laugh he let out and Keith swiftly joined him. They laughed for quite a while until it became apparent that they were holding the trip off with their banter. Lance squared his shoulder and pushed Keith towards the group. The carriage doors swung open and the Kings stepped in first, followed by Lotor, and lastly Keith who turned around to face Lance again. He leaned in close and whispered into his ears, “Do not cause much trouble. There are eyes and ears everywhere, and they are not too pleased with you.” 

Lance lost his breath and his eyes glazed over, with Keith’s steely purple orbs staring him down, his heart started to race. Keith gripped Lance on the shoulder and leaned in further to press their foreheads together. Their breaths mingled together as they stared at one another before Keith sighed and gave Lance a chaste kiss. 

“May we meet again,” Lance said softly when he pulled away, and they continued to gaze at each other. 

“We will,” Keith affirmed, giving Lance one final look before entering the carriage.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, there are going to be a ton of spelling mistakes and grammatical issues, but I hope I corrected most of them out so that the story can be grammatical at all. All and any feedback is much appreciated :)


End file.
